


do you like or like like me?

by stonerbughead



Series: do you like or like like me? [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Background Relationships, Childhood Friends to Oblivious Idiots to Lovers, Dual POV but Betty-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, High School, Jughead Pining to Mutual Pining, Loss of Virginity, Lots of teen angst, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use in later chapters, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Toni and Pop are co-captains of the Bughead ship, Underage Drinking, We have a new Bughead kink in town and it's called the field hockey skirt kink, aka: divorced parents, field hockey AU, friends drifting apart, there will not be a strong core four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 09:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 116,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25468447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerbughead/pseuds/stonerbughead
Summary: Betty lifts her hand above her eyes, shielding the sun as she searches the metal bleachers. She doesn’t know why she’s even bothering; there’s never anyone in the stands at Riverdale High field hockey games.Except for Jughead Jones.(a high school AU set primarily between the fall of 2008 and the fall of 2011. mix cds, teenage angst, and a ragtag field hockey team of nerdy girls.)
Relationships: Archie Andrews & Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper & Toni Topaz, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Series: do you like or like like me? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937776
Comments: 261
Kudos: 250
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	1. chapter one: freshmen

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, a few notes!
> 
> 1\. fair warning that, yes, the word count is high. I hope this won’t intimidate too many folks from reading. I structured the story in four chapters (each chapter will be a field hockey season) and then basically just wrote until i got the full story of that year out, however many words that took. So yes, the chapter word counts are rather long, but all the narrative arcs are set up to be split into these four sections and I just couldn’t figure out any other way to structure it. Apologies in advance, but I hope y’all can still make your way through it!
> 
> 2\. I borrowed a bunch of characters from Katy Keene and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina to round out the cast here — I had to figure out four years of field hockey players plus Betty’s other friends, so pretty much every one of our Archieverse ladies is gonna show up at some point! 
> 
> 3\. As I started digging into this fic, I realized this is actually my first time writing high school Bughead. I think it’s because I was a straightedge indie rock tumblr feminist nerd with no experience dating anyone in high school. Does that about sum it up? My love life was just a series of unrequited crushes while I intensely studied, maintaining a 4.0 GPA and doing lots of extracurriculars—including being co-EIC of the student newspaper my senior year, and, yes, playing on our under-performing field hockey team for all four years. 
> 
> So here, _I present it to you!_ There’s gonna be deeply high school angst, from the hurt of watching friends change without you to bitchy older sisters to classic Bughead-having-shitty-parents angst. There will be lots of celebration of teenage girls and friendship through the bonds that are forged on the field hockey team. 
> 
> And, since trading mixed CDs was a huge part of my high school experience, I decided to set this fic in the exact years I attended high school. There’s gonna be a LOT of early 2000s indie music so buckle up. Shouts out to the class of 2012. “The end of the world as we know it” being our class slogan has never felt more right than it does now, in 2020.
> 
> *hides face and hopes you enjoy!*  
> Maria

title is borrowed, appropriately, from the song “like or like like” by miniature tigers (2008)

this story is dedicated to my younger sister Sofia—my best friend in everything and a far, far better field hockey player than I ever was. thanks for being the first person to read this story and make sure i didn’t *completely* forget how to play field hockey~

_for your optional listening pleasure:[ mixed cd #1](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1FnrdLzXImMFbV7Z7QcR1h?si=f--uBXw7Rk6g5tWspBi2UA)_

* * *

_park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me_

-broken social scene (2002)

* * *

**_fall 2009_**

Betty sighs, rolling out her wrists and trying to clear her mind.

“Focus, Cooper,” Toni says behind her, lisping around her mouthguard. Betty shoots her as much of a smile as one can manage in a state-mandated protective eye mask. 

Betty turns around again to face the Seaside High team, looking taller and more confident in their powder blue uniforms than she remembers from last year. The nearest Seaside player glares at Betty, triggering an irrational thought that this girl can somehow see that she’s a fraud, that it’s her first time _starting_ a game since joining the Riverdale High field hockey team a year earlier, that her stomach is in knots.

Mostly as a distraction, Betty lifts her hand above her eyes, shielding the sun as she searches the metal bleachers. She doesn’t know why she’s even bothering; there’s never anyone in the stands at Riverdale High field hockey games. 

Except for Jughead Jones.

* * *

_We watched the season pull up its own stage_

_And catch the last weekend of the last week_

_Before the gold and the glimmer have been replaced_

_Another sun soaked season fades away_

-dashboard confessional (2006)

* * *

  
  
**_late summer 2008_**

The windows of the Cooper family minivan are cracked open, letting in the late August heat as Betty sweats in the passenger seat and counts the seconds until she no longer has to hear Polly’s belted renditions of top-40s radio hits.

She peers out the window as her older sister pulls into the parking lot. Its shoddily-painted lines and large potholes match the second-rate field the athletics department leaves to the low-performing varsity field hockey team.

Polly pulls into a spot and Betty moves with some difficulty, attempting to unstick her ass cheeks from the seats. Buzzing with anxiety, Betty almost forgets to unclip her seatbelt before turning around to grab her shiny new pink field hockey stick from the backseat. Her eyes catch on the view outside: girls climbing out of cars and crossing the parking lot toward the rest of the players, laughing and fastening on shin guards on the side of the field.

“Behold the freaks,” Polly snarks from the driver’s seat, looking out the window with the judgmental eye fitting of a senior captain of the River Vixens. Or at least, that’s what Betty assumes. Polly had been unusually mean since being anointed the title at cheer camp in July.

Betty rolls her eyes. “I’ll see you at 5,” she says, shutting the door purposefully behind her and refusing to look back. 

Heat rising from the pavement, Betty tightens her ponytail, adjusts the sports bag on her shoulder, and swallows. Field hockey is one of the few sports at Riverdale High with only one team: varsity and nothing more. They couldn’t find enough girls to sign up even if they _wanted_ to fill up a junior varsity roster. 

(“They _suck_ ,” Polly had declared at the kitchen table in June, when Betty had raised her interest in joining the field hockey team that fall.

She just wanted a high school sport for her college application. Even though Riverdale High wasn’t particularly great at field hockey, Betty found it fun, having played at the summer camp she used to attend in middle school. And ever since the time she’d passed the out-of-the-way field where the girls practiced with her mom a few years earlier, she’d been captivated by those pleated skirts the girls wore while they played. They just looked...powerful. Elegant. 

Polly, without even realizing it, confirmed her decision on that day in June. “I’m sure they don’t _suck,_ Polly,” her mom had said diplomatically.

“No, they do,” Polly had insisted, laying down her fork. “The team is no good because only the nerdy girls play. The athletic girls play soccer and the hot girls are River Vixens with me.”

Polly had been too busy getting reprimanded by their parents for her rudeness to notice Betty’s eyes light up.)

“Are you Elizabeth Cooper?” asks a slim blonde woman with toned calves and a Riverdale High jumpsuit.

“Yes,” Betty says, moving to reach out her hand for a shake, only to accidentally let her stick fall to the side. The woman moves just out of the way as it clatters to the ground. 

“I’m so sorry,” Betty says, quickly gathering it up.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, laughing. “I’m Penny Peabody, your new coach. You must be the last newbie to arrive. Get your shin guards on.”

.

.

.

Betty curses Polly for making her late as she scrambles to fasten on her shin guards in time to meet the rest of the girls, already walking toward the center of the field to meet the coach. 

“Fuck,” Betty says under her breath, making the only other girl left raise her eyebrow from where she’s similarly crouched a few feet away, struggling to fasten her second shin guard.

“Mine are hand-me-downs,” the girl offers, her voice kind. 

“Same,” Betty admits, laughing. “From the _one_ day my sister decided she wanted to play soccer like, six years ago.”

The girl laughs, standing up and waiting for Betty as she finally finishes. She offers her hand to Betty to help her up and Betty smiles appreciatively. 

“I’m Betty Cooper,” she says. “I’m a freshman.” She blushes a little but figures she might as well get it out of the way. 

“Toni Topaz,” the girl replies as they fall into step together, walking to meet the rest of the team. “And me too.” Betty feels slightly buoyed by the new alliance with this fellow newbie, though Toni _is_ intimidatingly beautiful, with pink streaks at the ends of her hair. Definitely way cooler than Betty could ever dream of being. 

Betty doesn’t have too much time to dwell on that thought, thankfully, as Coach Peabody commands attention. “Welcome to the first day of preseason, girls,” she says, silencing the last couple of gossipy conversations in the circle.

There are about twenty girls, Betty would guess—maybe even less—standing around the perimeter of what was once the Riverdale crest. The faded paint is long overdue for a fresh coat. 

“As most of you know, there’s no such thing as ‘try-outs’ or ‘cuts’ in Riverdale field hockey,” Coach Peabody continues, pausing as the older girls laugh. Betty smiles, though she feels like she hasn’t yet earned the right to laugh along. 

“Nevertheless,” Coach Peabody continues when the laughter dies down. “That’s no excuse for laziness. We’re gonna work _hard_ over the next ten days. For those of you who’ve played before—I hope you had a good summer and that you stayed in shape. For our four newbies…” She pauses, glancing around the crowd. Betty stiffens when her gaze lands on Betty and Toni, standing side by side. “Welcome to the team!” 

She begins clapping and the other girls smile and clap along with her. Betty isn’t quite sure if it’s sarcastic or genuine, so used to underhanded comments from Polly and her River Vixen friends.

“Let’s start as we always do,” Coach Peabody says, standing back from the circle and motioning to an older girl. “Would you do the honors, Team Captain?” she adds with a proud smile and a bunch of the other girls whistle and cheer. 

Betty’s stomach is buzzing with anxiety, unsure what will happen next. She’s never much liked being put on the spot. She can’t remember a time when she wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. And yet...

“Hey, everyone,” the team captain says, switching places with the coach so she’s standing in the middle of the dilapidated school crest. “I’m Prudence, so excited to be your captain this year! Now, our tradition on the first day of preseason is to learn each other’s names while we’re stretching. At the beginning of each day of practice we meet out here in this circle and we stretch out. Because getting hurt just ain’t worth it.” 

Everyone laughs and Betty can’t help but feel pleasantly surprised as everyone drops their sticks and Prudence leads the group to stretch out their legs. 

She takes a beat to glance around the circle at the other girls as Prudence talks some more. In the tunnel vision of her earlier anxiety, Betty hadn’t realized she already knew the other two newbies: Ethel Muggs and Midge Klump, who had been her friends in elementary school. She’s known them forever, but when Veronica Lodge moved to town in middle school, fixating immediately on Betty, her friendships with Midge and Ethel had slowly receded to the sidelines. They still talked in the honors classes they shared, but it wasn’t the same. Betty feels guilty sometimes to have fallen out of touch. Maybe field hockey could be a way to reconnect.

Betty lifts her eyes to glance at Ethel, who shoots her a warm smile. Betty’s nervous expression morphs into a smile of her own and she breathes out, refocusing on the red-headed senior introducing herself as Dorcas as they change positions to stretch out their backs. 

When the girl to Dorcas’ left introduces herself as Agatha next, recognition dawns. She can hear Polly’s voice ranting in their shared bathroom, in her usual tone of derision. “The _weirdest_ girls in my grade will probably be your captains this year: Prudence, Dorcas, and Agatha. Rumor has it that they’re all _Wiccans_.” Betty shakes her head, trying to expel her sister’s taunting voice from her head. 

They all stand up to stretch out their arms, and Betty quickly realizes they’ve left the four freshmen for last. Her stomach pinches with anxiety as Midge introduces herself first, already dreading her turn. But the fear turns out to be baseless. The older girls seem determined to appear welcoming, smiling and nodding encouragingly as first Midge, then Ethel introduces themselves to the team. 

“I’m Toni Topaz,” the girl beside her says next. “From Southside Middle. I was always good at street hockey in the neighborhood, so I thought this could be fun.”

“I love your hair, girl,” gushes Josie McCoy, one of the junior girls who had introduced herself as a musician who took up field hockey to round out her college application because she “had _no_ desire to be in the marching band.” _Polly really wasn’t lying_.

“Thanks,” Toni says, grinning and then turning to Betty with a soft smile. 

“I guess that leaves me,” Betty says, feeling her face turn hot even as she manages to keep a steady tone. _Power through the anxiety, Betty. You can do this._ “My name is Betty Cooper, I’m a freshman, and I wanted to play a sport in high school and this seemed like the most fun.” She turns to Toni, who nods at her encouragingly. “I was pretty good at hockey in gym class at Riverdale Middle, too.”

“That’s what we like to hear!” Prudence says, clapping her hands together. “Welcome to our four newbies.” She turns to Coach Peabody, standing on the edge of the circle watching everyone with a neutral expression on her face. “All yours, Coach,” Prudence says before returning to her spot in the circle, between Dorcas and Agatha.

The day passes quicker from there. After stretching comes a three-mile run through the neighborhood, Prudence leading the pack. Betty almost brings her stick, but notices just in time that all the other girls have dropped theirs near the water bottles. 

She’s always liked running. There’s an obvious attraction to Betty—the gentle sensation of wind fanning her face; a sense of control she feels with every successful push to keep going; and the endorphins aren’t bad either. 

“Impressive, Cooper,” Coach Peabody says when Betty crosses back into the parking lot to complete the route, only trailing Toni and a handful of the older girls. 

“Thanks,” she says through panting breaths, stretching out her arms as she walks toward her water bottle. 

“Ten-minute rest before I need you girls on the field! Make sure you have your mouthguards or you don’t play!” Coach Peabody calls before walking away—based on the gruff hardness Betty noticed in her voice, she figures Penny’s headed for a cigarette break off school property.

Betty rummages through her sports bag for her pink mouthguard. She’d molded it two nights earlier in her kitchen, reading the instructions so many times while she waited for the hot mouthguard to mold to her mouth that she’s pretty sure she memorized them. 

She stands up, holding the rubbery mouth impression in her hand awkwardly. _Where do I_ put _this when I’m not wearing it?_ Her hands move instinctively to her shorts, only to remember they don’t have pockets. It takes her only one panicked look around to figure out the answer: _all_ the older girls have their mouthguards fastened around their sports-bra straps. She grins a little, sighing in relief. 

“Hey, Betty,” Midge says brightly, walking up to Betty with Ethel at her side, water bottles clutched in their hands.

“Hey!” Betty says, pushing sweaty hair out of her face, grateful she had _just_ finished getting her mouthguard to stay on her bra. “I’m so excited you guys are playing too,” she says quickly.

“Same with us!” Ethel says. She pauses, the three girls eyeing each other awkwardly and giggling at the silence. “The older girls seem nice so far,” Ethel adds, and Betty and Midge quickly agree. 

The three girls are interrupted by Toni, walking over timidly to their little circle. “Hey, fellow freshmen,” she tries in a jovial tone and Betty turns to shoot her a warm smile. 

“Have you been formally introduced to Ethel and Midge?” Betty asks, feeling suddenly responsible for fortifying this social connection.

“No, but it’s great to meet you,” Toni says warmly, reaching out her hand for a shake. “I’m excited to play together. Given how small this team is, we could spend _a lot_ of time together over the next few years.”

They all laugh. “I’m glad we don’t have any bitchy mean girls around,” Betty says boldly. Midge and Ethel shoot her knowing looks of agreement but Toni looks confused so Betty explains. “If you see a mean blonde River Vixen captain torturing younger girls in the halls next week, that’s probably my sister Polly.”

Toni’s eyes widen in horror. “Oh, wow. Toto, we are _not_ on the Southside anymore.”

Midge, Ethel, and Betty all laugh, and then Penny and Prudence are calling the team to the field before they know it.

.

.

.

(Betty will soon learn that what follows is a fairly typical day of Riverdale High field hockey practice.)

Coach Peabody blows her whistle to silence conversations amongst the players, then pairs up younger girls with older ones. They run through all kinds of passes—push passes, slap shots, drives, even scoops. Betty prefers the push pass, enjoys the challenge of transferring her weight seamlessly from her body into the ball.

“Dribbling drills next!” Coach Peabody calls, sending Prudence, Dorcas, and Agatha up the field to place plastic cones along the sideline. Another senior named Elspeth drops the faded blue ball bag into the center of the circle. 

“Everyone take a ball and line up. When I blow my whistle, the next person in line starts. Dribble around every cone,” Coach Peabody explains and Betty’s hands feel clammy again. 

Prudence kicks the team off, running up the field with a shiny-pink ball and her purple-and-silver stick. Betty watches Prudence’s movements carefully; it’s unsurprising that she’s the team captain from the elegant way she moves the ball through the grass. 

When Betty’s turn comes a few minutes later, she takes a deep breath before pushing her ball up the field, watching out for the little orange cones. She’d been left with one of the balls from the bottom of the bag—so streaked with dirt she’s unsure what color it’s supposed to be. 

She manages to maneuver smoothly around the first one, two, three cones—before losing control just before she’s supposed to round the fourth cone. 

“Recover quickly, Cooper!” Coach Peabody calls and Betty lets out a sharp intake of breath. She knows it’s well-intentioned encouragement, so why does the same feeling creep up her spine as when Alice Cooper yells? _Guess I’ve never really had a_ coach _before_ , she thinks, gritting her teeth as she continues dribbling.

Penny stops Betty on her walk to the back of the line. “That was a good start, Betty,” she says. “The main name of the game with dribbling is concentration and focus. But this is exactly what practice is for.”

“Thanks, Coach Peabody,” Betty says—realizing too late how garbled the words sound around her mouthguard—before returning, flustered, to her spot in line. The coach’s eyes flit back to Ethel dribbling up the field. 

“Coach is right about concentration,” a junior girl named Pepper Smith says, turning around in line to shoot Betty a warm smile. “Just try to center yourself right before your turn.”

Betty nods, grinning. She pulls her mouthguard out. “Thanks so much. Pepper, right?”

She nods, reaching her non-stick hand out for a quick shake. “You’re Polly Cooper’s little sister, aren’t you?”

Betty blushes. “Somehow,” she says, and Pepper laughs. 

“Don’t worry, darling,” she says, turning back around to face the front as they all shift to move up in line. “I already knew you weren’t like Polly if you’re one of us.”

Betty manages to follow Pepper’s advice and improves with each turn she takes before they finish dribbling for the day. 

The next blow of Coach Peabody’s whistle brings them spread out horizontally along the end of the field, the unspoken sign of…

“ _Sprints_!”

A collective groan rises from the team.

“Shush!” Coach Peabody says with a wave of her hand. “I promise we can end the day around the circle if you girls put your all into it!”

“ _Yes_!” cheer Prudence, Dorcas, and Agatha, pumping their fists, and Betty notices most of the juniors and sophomores look pretty excited too.

“We gotta get Trula in the pads today!” Josie says with a whoop that a few of the other girls echo. Betty squints her eyes, trying to figure out what this means. Everyone’s looking toward a tall and cold-faced sophomore girl who had been pretty quiet all day, but is now grinning wide.

“Trula Twyst is our goalie,” Toni whispers next to her and Betty shoots back a grateful smile. “She’s from the Southside,” Toni manages to add by explanation while the rest of the girls are still loudly hyping up Trula.

“Alright, let’s get these sprints over with first!” Coach Peabody says. “On my whistle, we’re going to the 50 and back. Keep sprinting until I blow my whistle again. Sticks in hand,” she adds and another groan comes from the crowd. A couple of the girls laugh at Josie, who had prematurely—or optimistically—already dropped her stick to the grass.

“ _Go_!” The whistle sounds, and Betty pushes herself forward, again remembering Pepper and Coach Peabody’s words about concentration as she lets her arms and lungs and legs take over. 

She barely registers that she’s tired until her fourth time hitting the half-line and turning to face the return trip. 

“You have the ball, ladies!” Coach Peabody calls. “You’re moving it toward the goal, a defender is on your trail! Sprint, sprint, sprint!”

Betty pours all her focus into _going, going, going. Grip that stick and keep going._

The whistle blows again and all the girls cheer, sticks dropping to the ground as everyone stretches out their arms and legs excitedly. 

“Ten minute water break while Trula suits up,” Coach Peabody says. “Then I need everyone on the circle with a ball.”

Betty, Toni, Ethel, and Midge stand around in a semi-circle, half-catching their breaths and half-hydrating, while the older girls gossip and laugh. 

“I’m telling you, my drive is _so_ much better than last year,” Pepper says to Josie near them, and Betty’s eyebrows can’t help but raise at that. _Is that what they’re about to do? Practice their drives?_ Betty can feel her ears burn. Earlier that day, drives had definitely been Betty’s weakest point.

As it turns out, Prudence, Agatha, and Dorcas all have _really_ good drives.

The girls line up around the semi-circle facing the goal, each with a ball in front of them. Coach Peabody asks Prudence to explain the exercise for the newbies: the idea is for each of them to attempt a drive into the goal—as both a practice for their offensive skills and their goalie.

Prudence goes first, shooting a hard drive into the corner of the goal, the ball bouncing against the wooden board with a sharp slap. 

“Yes, girl!” Agatha cries, lining up her own drive. Trula claps her pads together, awaiting the shot.

The concentration and determination on Agatha, then Dorcas’ face, is borderline terrifying and Betty can five-percent understand why Polly might not get along with these girls. 

As players slowly but surely take their own drive around the circle, Betty is relieved to see that not every older girl can manage as impeccable a swing as the so-called Weird Sisters. Still, she can feel her palms clam up once again as, with each slap of stick to ball, her turn nears ever-closer.

Two girls down from Betty, Ethel swings and misses on the first try and Betty breathes out deeply, one of her worst-case scenarios playing itself out before her eyes.

But then Josie calls, “You got this, girl!” and it feels so much like what she needs to hear in that moment that Betty finds herself joining in.

“Yeah, you got this, Ethel!” Betty says, surprising herself.

“That’s the spirit!” Coach Peabody says, clapping from her spot outside the circle.

On her third try, Ethel hits a modest shot that Trula blocks; Betty loves how the entire circle erupts into cheers when the ball leaves Ethel’s stick _and_ when Trula successfully keeps it out of the goal. 

Toni is up next and Betty shoots her an encouraging smile, even if she’s a bundle of nerves about taking her own drive when she finishes.

And then, it happens. Something that will solidify Toni’s place in Betty’s life forever, whether or not she knows it. 

(As Pepper would tell them a year later, around milkshakes in a booth at Pop’s: “To be quite honest, you can _usually_ tell within the _first_ day of preseason which newbie will end up the captain their senior year.” The meaningful look she shot Toni did, inevitably, turn out to be 100% true.)

Toni takes one, two light practice swings before she aims a deliberate, confident stroke at the ball. It moves, fast and powerfully, across the circle, slamming into the backboard before Trula can stop it.

“ _Holy._ SHIT!” yells Pepper.

“Language!” Coach Peabody calls through a smile but it’s drowned out by the screams and cheers of every other girl. Betty claps for her new friend, Toni blushing proudly beside her.

“Looks like we found our new offensive star, huh?” Coach Peabody says when the cheers die down. “Now, Betty, if you would.”

Betty sighs. “Quite an act to follow,” she ad-libs, pleasantly surprised that the girls laugh along with her joke. She remembers her new mantra of concentration, rolls out her neck, and tries to expel the worst-case scenarios from her brain. Then, with one practice stroke, she hits the ball. 

Like Ethel, it’s a moderate and easily-blocked shot, but it earns Betty a cheer too. A weight lifts off Betty’s stomach as the sophomore standing on her other side, Tina Patel, takes her turn.

The day ends with a cooldown stretch around the center-field circle, led by Prudence. “I’ll see you girls at 10 AM tomorrow, don’t be late!” Coach Peabody says, saluting Prudence with a smirk before walking toward the parking lot.

“One cheer we always end practice with,” Prudence continues, even as Coach walks away—or maybe, Betty thinks, _because_ she’s walked away—“is a reminder that Riverdale High field hockey players have been giving each other since the 90s.”

“Sticks in, ladies!” Prudence adds, and the girls circle in closer, their field hockey sticks touching in the center. 

The cheer is simple, but effective: _we are Bulldogs, we are sisters._

(Betty will write about this chorus of voices— _just_ the voices of excited teenage girls, ringing out on that field for all to hear—in her journal when she gets home later. It’s when she realizes that field hockey is gonna be something different. For the first time in her young life, she’s part of a real team.)

.

.

.

“A whirlwind” is the only way Betty can describe the next nine days of preseason. Dribbling and passing make way to defensive and offensive drills, which make way to scrimmaging and practicing penalty corners. (Betty didn’t realize she’d have to memorize corners. She can tell the Weird Sisters have influenced the naming conventions over the last couple years based on their spooky call-outs.)

Betty finds that the more Penny and Prudence elaborate on what little strategy their underdog team attempts to execute, the more excited she becomes. Betty can complete a task proficiently when she’s told to; it’s ingrained in her. She’s a Cooper, after all. But when it comes to being truly passionate about something, it’s always helped Betty to understand _why_ she’s learning a skill. Once she can begin to picture herself dodging defenders and passing off the ball to teammates, suddenly it becomes easier to concentrate on improving her shots. 

It all comes down to the final two days of preseason. Per tradition, the penultimate day is essentially a field hockey-specific color war tournament hosted by the senior field hockey players, who divide the rest of the girls up into teams. 

Betty ends up on Agatha’s team and finds the girl to have a surprisingly biting wit underneath her serious exterior. During the final scrimmage that decides the color war winner—the Green Team, stacked with Prudence and Toni, inevitably prevails—Betty scores her first-ever goal of preseason. She can barely believe it when the slap shot she’d attempted from the side of the circle somehow passes the line, escaping Trula’s reach. The cheers of her teammates bring her back to reality and she quickly stoops down to retrieve the ball, as she’s seen the other girls do when they score a goal. Betty runs back to the center of the field with the ball in hand, face flushed with pleasant surprise, girls tapping their sticks to hers as she passes them in congratulations.

The last day involves their longest run yet in the morning, followed by a killer round of sprints and the final scrimmage of preseason, from which Penny assigns each player their position for the season. Though she scores no goals, Betty manages to maintain two assists during this final scrimmage, passing to both Toni and Dorcas. 

By the time Betty finally hits her pink sheets that night, she’s the most exhausted she’s ever been in her life. But it’s official: Betty Cooper is a Riverdale High field hockey forward. She falls asleep quickly, a favorable alternative to the many nights that summer she’d spent unable to turn her brain off. 

.

.

.

It doesn’t matter how many times both Polly and Betty have reminded their parents that they will spend the last night of summer out with their friends. It’s not even a _new_ Riverdale tradition. Betty can remember her older brother Charles skipping out early on such nights to meet up with friends when he was younger. And yet, when Betty comes down the stairs, expecting to find Polly tapping her foot impatiently and swinging the car keys, she instead finds Alice and Hal Cooper sitting at a fully-set dinner table, arguing with her sister. 

“I am _not_ going to let you two stay out until all hours of the night on a school night!”

“What do you think is gonna happen, Mom?” Polly says. “I’m just gonna drop Betty at Pop’s and then meet up with the other Vixens.”

Alice narrows her eyes. “And will you pick up Betty?” (As the owners of the local newspaper, _The Riverdale Register_ , their parents are especially adept at peppering their children with pointed questions.)

“ _Yes_ ,” Polly says. “I’ll have us home by midnight.”

“ _Midnight_? Midnight, Polly? On a _school night_? I recall your curfew being _10 PM_ last year.”

Polly rolls her eyes, arms across her crop-top-clad chest. “Oh my _God_ , Mom, I’m almost eighteen! It’s embarrassing that I even _have_ a curfew!”

“What could you possibly be doing out till midnight, if not doing drugs and having sex?” Alice screams. “Honestly, Pauline, do you have _any_ interest in getting into a decent college?” 

That sets Polly off immediately, her lower-than-expected SAT scores having been a sore spot between Alice and Polly all summer. (Polly refuses to retake the SATs for a third time; Alice insists she must do so in order to get into a good enough school to uphold “the reputation of this family.” To which Polly took great offense and dug in her heels. The resulting stalemate has been unpleasant.) 

“Where will you be? What will you be doing?” Alice continues. “Will there be people having sex? I don’t want to see your life ruined by some dim-witted football player knocking you up at seventeen!”

“ _Mom!”_ While Polly screeches at a level Betty previously didn’t realize was reachable by the human voice box, Betty simply wishes she could sink into the floor. She’d really rather _not_ think about whether her older sister is having sex. Gross.

The screaming continues for a good ten minutes until Hal finally steps in to mediate. Still, it ends with Polly calling her mom a “bitch” and slamming the door to her room. 

“Good, stay there! Because you’re _grounded_ , Pauline Cooper!” Alice screams from the bottom of the stairs.

Hal sighs, picking up the car keys from where Polly had flung them before stomping up the stairs. “I’ll drive you to Pop’s, Betty.”

(Betty will begin counting the days until Polly goes to college only a few days into the school year, when during a dispute about Polly’s dress for the back-to-school dance, a crumb-covered plate ends up hurled at the wall.)

.

.

.

Betty has never been more relieved to see the neon-red Pop’s Diner sign.

For as long as Betty can remember, she has spent this night eating a last summertime meal in a Pop’s booth with her best friends, Archie Andrews and Jughead Jones. As excited as Betty is by her newfound enjoyment of the sport of field hockey—and the new friends that come with it—there’s something comforting about the thought of seeing her oldest friends gathered around a booth. Like maybe _everything_ isn’t about to completely change. 

“Thanks for the ride, Dad,” she says, closing the door before Hal can remind Betty of her 10 PM school-night curfew for a third time.

.

.

.

As it turns out, Betty’s the last to arrive. Cheryl Blossom and Kevin Keller sit on one side of the booth, facing the always-antisocial Jughead, who has managed to wedge himself in the corner next to Archie and Veronica, who are currently _on_ and therefore all over each other. Betty smirks at the desperate look Jughead shoots her when she approaches the table.

“Bettykins!” Veronica says, removing her lips from Archie’s to stand up and hug her. 

“Hey, V,” Betty says warily, sliding into the booth next to Cheryl. 

“It’s been _forever_ since we’ve seen you, Betty! Even me _,_ ” Archie says enthusiastically, passing her a menu, a nice gesture even though they both know exactly what she’s about to order. 

Betty and Jughead and Archie had all grown up on Elm Street—until the Jones family was forced to downsize and move to the Southside the year before, the first (but certainly not the last) family on their block to lose their house in the recession. FP and Gladys had persuaded the school district to let him finish out the year at Riverdale Middle, arguing that all the Southside and Riverdale students would be attending Riverdale High together the next year anyway. But still, it’s strange, being able to see Archie through her bedroom window, but knowing that Jughead is no longer in his room four houses down.

“How’s field hockey going, B?” Veronica asks, popping one of Archie’s fries in her mouth. 

“Really good!” Betty says. “I’m having a lot of fun. And I made friends with a girl from the Southside.” Jughead’s eyes lift at that, the hint of a smile. 

(Betty remembers sitting on the front steps of the old Jones house with Jughead a year earlier, the moving truck almost full of a lifetime of things. He must’ve purposefully waited until Archie and Fred were helping FP with the couch from the basement. Because it wasn’t until Jughead was completely alone with Betty that he confessed how scared he was that people would look at him differently, now that he’d be living in Sunnyside Trailer Park. 

“I’d _never_ look at you differently,” she’d said, voice hardened and serious. “You know that, right?”

Jughead had laughed as he nodded emphatically. “I wasn’t talking about _you_ ,” he’d said, as if it was obvious. They heard the sound of FP’s grunts only a minute later, cutting off any further conversation about the topic as Archie, Fred, and FP made it through the front door with the couch.)

Cheryl wraps an arm around Betty. “Be careful,” she says. “You never know.”

Betty shoots her an incredulous look, moving Cheryl’s arm with a sigh. “What are you talking about, Cheryl? There’s nothing wrong with being from the Southside.”

Kevin quickly changes the topic to a predictable, safe question about what they’re all planning to wear for their first day of high school. Cheryl and Veronica’s answers alone require full monologues and Betty can’t help but internally chuckle at how different her old friends are from the girls she’s spent the last ten days getting to know.

It doesn’t escape her notice that Jughead is practically silent in the corner, stirring what’s left of his milkshake with a frown. At one point, she has to shoot him a meaningful look to keep him from saying something sardonic to Cheryl and Veronica—she could see it on the tip of his tongue. He conceded, waving down Pop to order another burger instead. Betty smiles at him, a silent _thank you_ that he shrugs off as she refocuses on the conversation.

.

.

.

(Later, she’ll think that something definitely changed that very night. She can even pinpoint the exact moment: when a couple carfuls of football players unloaded into Pop’s, sending large, letterman-jacket-clad boys shoving each other in the direction of their table and Jughead scrambling toward his favorite corner booth.)

Betty shouldn’t dread the appearance of Trev Brown and Reggie Mantle. After all, they’ve been at the very least her acquaintances for the better part of her childhood. But she feels her stomach prickle with anxiety as the two boys crowd around their table within seconds, bumping fists with Archie and pressing flirtatious kisses on Veronica and Cheryl’s cheeks in greeting. The upperclassmen boys they arrived with immediately get to work commandeering the three booths closest to theirs, yelling unnecessarily loud in Pop’s direction to get his attention. 

It takes her a minute to realize Jughead had managed to sneak off in the shuffle. Without missing a beat, it seems Pop has already delivered the burger to Jughead’s new booth. She glances at him again—he’s listening to his Walkman and typing on the beaten-up PC laptop he’s been using for two years now. 

Betty bites her lip, the image of her best friend grounding her a little. 

Then she turns back to her friends, faking a smile at the joke Trev is telling about one of the football coaches. 

.

.

.

Betty manages to sneak away with the excuse of using the bathroom, dropping into Jughead’s booth on her way back instead.

“Hey, Juggie,” she says, grinning when she succeeds in getting him to look up from his laptop.

“Hey,” he says, shooting her a grin of his own. 

“That was impressive,” she says, reaching to grab a single fry off his plate. He watches her with beady eyes, but says nothing. She knows from many years of friendship that she can chance stealing two to three fries from Jughead before he’ll verbally protest. (After three fries, Betty wouldn’t advise trying to steal any more. She’s seen him craft makeshift picket signs out of a coffee stirrer and an empty sugar packet in a pinch. Jughead Jones doesn’t mess around with his Pop’s.)

Jughead tilts his head at her. “What was impressive?”

“Your ability to sneak away from our booth without me realizing,” she explains. “Are you a wizard, Jug?”

“Did you just quote Harry Potter at me, Betts?”

Betty shrugs. “I think if _anyone_ gets to hear my Harry Potter references, it’s the boy who’s been the Ron to my Hermione for a good decade.” She blushes when she realizes how that sounds, given how _Deathly Hallows_ ended. 

(They’d gone to the Riverdale Book Store to pick up their copies at the midnight release party, staying up in Archie’s treehouse to read them together for tradition’s sake. Their seventh-grade bodies were a tighter fit than the kids who’d read _the Sorcerer’s Stone_ out loud to each other with Archie, who always insisted on voicing Harry. But it felt like a necessity to mark the end of an era, even if Archie was more interested in his date with Veronica than staying up to read with them.)

“Touché,” Jughead says, taking a final bite of his burger. “So, how was field hockey, really?”

Betty smiles, resting her elbows on the table and trying to find the real words to describe it. “It’s... challenging, but _fun_ ,” she says. “I really do enjoy the sport and the girls aren’t like the River Vixens.”

Jughead nods. “That seems like a good start,” he says and Betty laughs. Polly Cooper _has_ essentially functioned as the Mean Older Sister on the block for their entire lives, after all. “What _are_ the girls like then?” he asks, looking down at his plate.

Betty grins, picturing Toni and Josie and Pepper. “Smart,” she says. “And really kind and genuine. It’s like...I don’t know how to explain it. I just never felt alienated or out of place for the entire ten days of preseason.”

Jughead whistles. “ _Ten_ days? Damn. You’re a survivor, Betts.”

Betty laughs. “You’re just saying that because you neverexercise.”

Jughead nods, popping a fry in his mouth. “Not denying that,” he says. “In fact, it’s why I admire you so much for your athletic prowess. You inspire me.”

Betty snorts. “Will I inspire you to actually _exercise_ any time soon?”

“Hmm... _maybe_.” 

Betty shakes her head, sticking her tongue out at Jughead, who returns the gesture with a weird face of his own. A comfortable quiet settles, the first day of school hovering invisible over their table. 

“But at the end of the day,” Betty says. “Field hockey is mostly to round out my college application. I just...I want to get out of this town, like Charles did. But I don’t want to wait till after college like him. I want to go to school anywhere, anywhere but here.”

Jughead nods, smiling. It’s not anything he hasn’t heard before, especially in the few years since her brother finally made his long-awaited move from Riverdale to New York City. 

“That’s what I want too,” Jughead says, quiet. 

“You do?” Betty asks, surprised. 

“Of course,” he says. “What, you thought I wanted to sit in this booth forever?” He gestures around his usual corner for emphasis.

Betty shrugs. “Not necessarily,” she says. “You’ve just never really said anything when I’ve talked about wanting to leave.”

“True,” Jughead says. “But like I said, Betts: you inspire me.”

Betty grins. “So we just have to get through four years. Four years and we’re out of here.”

“Four years and we’re blowing this Popsicle stand,” Jughead agrees, making Betty giggle.

He offers his pinky finger for the millionth time in their lives, and she takes it for a firm shake.

* * *

_Fall is here, hear the yell_

_Back to school, ring the bell_

_Brand new shoes, walking blues_

_Climb the fence, books and pens_

_I can tell that we are going to be friends_

-the white stripes (2002)

* * *

**_fall 2008_**

Everything feels awkward. 

There are classic problems, like how Betty can’t open her locker and ends up dragging her backpack to every class for the first four periods of the day. She gets lost on her way to her third class, and spends the first ten minutes of lunch battling her lock once again until the locker finally bangs open on what must’ve been her twentieth try.

By the time Betty arrives at the cafeteria, she’s relieved to spot her friends already seated around a table. Veronica waves her down, and she hurries in their direction, dropping her bagged lunch onto the table as she settles into the empty space beside Kevin and across from Jughead. 

Betty has never been more grateful for the mindless chatter of Archie and Veronica. She nods along as the rest of their friends discuss the season prospects of the Riverdale High football team, trying to avoid Jughead’s eye. She just _knows_ she’ll burst into laughter if they make eye contact.

After she’s finished her sandwich, Betty takes advantage of a lull in conversation to invite her friends to the first field hockey game of the year. “It would be cool to see you guys there,” she concludes, feeling weirdly flushed and embarrassed, though she’s unsure why. Even when Archie was just playing football in the rec leagues, Veronica always insisted on dragging all their friends to his home games. She figures her best friend will have an embarrassingly similar zeal for Betty’s new sporting endeavor.

“When is it?” Veronica asks.

“Tuesday at 4 PM,” Betty says. “On Svenson Memorial Field.”

“Oh, is that the little field near the recycling center?” Kevin asks, scratching his head.

“Ugh, I _hate_ that part of town,” Cheryl says. “What?” she asks when Jughead shoots her a disgusted look.

Betty gulps. “Anyway, I’m excited. We’re playing Centerville, and I hear they’re pretty evenly-matched with us.”

“I bet you girls are gonna wipe the _floor_ with them,” Veronica says, voice a little _too_ enthusiastic before she hurriedly takes a swig of her bottled water.

“Yeah, I would be scared to get in the way of Betty Cooper,” Archie offers. Betty pretends not to notice the shove by Veronica that immediately precedes his remark.

“Thanks,” Betty says with a tight-lipped smile. 

The conversation soon devolves into Cheryl, Veronica, and Archie coordinating rides to some football-related social event. Betty looks down at the table, feeling suddenly like she doesn’t want the bag of chips she’d sneaked into her lunch bag that morning when Alice wasn’t looking.

When she looks back up, Jughead’s eyes are on her. She glances back at the chips questioningly and he nods, grinning. Betty hands them over, smiling at his excited face as he pops the plastic bag open. The action relaxes her a little, it’s so quintessentially Jughead.

She clears her throat and says, “Did I mention Ethel and Midge are on the team?”

Jughead shakes his head. “That’s cool. They’ve always been...nice.”

Betty laughs. “I’ll make sure Ethel doesn’t bother you again.”

Jughead rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I hope she’s learned about the concept of ‘consent’ since last year.”

“ _Hopefully_ ,” Betty nods, remembering when Ethel had apparently wildly misconstrued Jughead smiling in her general direction at the eighth grade dance. Before Jughead could politely decline, Ethel had attacked him with an unpleasant-looking kiss. Suffice it to say, the sputtering rejection Jughead then doled out had Ethel running out of the middle school gym in tears. 

After a beat, Betty covers her face with a trademark Cooper smile. “I think it’s gonna be a good season, though. I’m actually really excited for the first game.”

Jughead grins. “I’ll be there,” he promises.

.

.

.

At Monday afternoon practice, Betty is the fourth girl to finish their run. 

“That’s what I like to see, Cooper! Bring that energy tomorrow!” Coach Peabody calls. 

Betty smiles as she stretches out her arms and heads toward her water bottle, her stomach suddenly abuzz with anxiety at the mention of tomorrow’s game.

“Hey, Cooper,” Toni says. She’d been right in front of Betty the entire run, finishing just a minute ahead. 

“Hey, Toni!” Betty says, trying to paste a fake smile on. “You’ve been doing so great. I’m excited to see you take on those Centerville girls tomorrow.”

Toni laughs. “Thanks, girl. But you’re kicking ass too.” Toni shoots Betty a knowing look when Betty tries to open her mouth to protest and Betty clams up, pleasantly surprised that her new friend knows her so well already. “I know you’re not feeling confident in your skills and think that there’s no way Penny will play you tomorrow,” Toni continues. “But I believe in you, and I think you’re wrong.”

Betty grins, this time a genuine one. “I’m really glad I met you, Toni.”

“Same here, Cooper,” she says as they both head toward the side of the field. “Speaking of friendship—do you have the notes from English lit? I totally spaced out for a good ten minutes in class today.”

Betty giggles. “Yes, I do. But they’re in my locker. Meet me there at the beginning of lunch tomorrow?”

“Deal,” Toni says. They talk about _The Scarlet Letter_ , both agreeing they hope the teacher moves on to less basic material soon. Betty almost forgets that they’re about to play a scrimmage that will determine who starts the game tomorrow. 

_Almost._ Only ten minutes later, Betty stands, nervous and unsure, as Penny divides the girls up into two teams. But Toni’s words buoy her, and she works hard during the entire practice.

The seniors distribute jerseys to the newbies in the parking lot during a water break, Prudence explaining that their team is so small that girls take an available number and keep it for the entire four years.

“It’s like fate chooses your number,” Midge says. “I like it.”

Agatha laughs, pulling the bag of available jerseys from her trunk. “Whatever you say, freshie.”

(Betty ends up with #10. She likes a nice even number.)

The older girls hype up the newbies even more than usual during the last half of the scrimmage, which Betty appreciates. She’s so used to practicing and trying and failing here on this dilapidated field, in front of twenty girls and no one more. Maybe that’s what the fear is really about: for Betty, field hockey has existed in a bubble that’s about to be burst forever. 

.

.

.

Betty’s an observant person. She and Jughead’s love for Tracy True and the Baxter Brothers extended beyond trading worn paperbacks in Archie’s treehouse—as kids, they’d fancied themselves detectives. 

So she’s not surprised when no one but Jughead shows up.

Earlier that day, Betty watched her friends’ faces carefully when she sat down at the lunch table wearing her gold field hockey jersey paired with the blue-and-gold pleated skirt that had once warmed Betty to the sport. (Prudence insisted all the girls wear their uniforms to school to mark their first game of the season.) Cheryl averted her eyes, suddenly very interested in her nails. Veronica bit her lip, a classic tell. And Archie and Kevin both moved to change the subject almost immediately after Jughead said, “Today’s the big game day, huh, Betty?”

Betty spots Jughead when the team returns to the sidelines after a group stretch. He’s sitting midway up the bleachers in the very center. Even from a distance, she notices his trademark headphones covering his beanie. A scattering of parents and friends sit closer to the end, leaving him typically far from anyone else. But when Jughead spots her, his face breaks out into a grin and he waves, pulling his headphones down from his ears.

Betty smiles wide, waving back. Ethel comes sidling up next to her and Betty’s back stiffens, noticing Jughead’s face turn pink as he clumsily shoves his headphones back over his ears. 

“Jughead showed up, huh?” Ethel says.

“Ethel, Jughead’s my best friend and if you’re still interested, I just have to tell you, I don’t think…”

Ethel shakes her head, cutting her off. “Don’t worry, Betty,” she says. “I heard Jughead loud and clear last year. He does _not_ like me that way. Besides, I have my eye on Dilton Doiley. Have you seen him? He really grew up this summer…”

Betty smiles politely and swallows her mental image of Dilton, which involves unpleasant memories of seventh-grade frog dissection. “Are your parents coming?” she asks Ethel instead, anything to change the subject.

Ethel shakes her head. “I told them not to,” she explains. “I mean, this is just for my college application at the end of the day, right?”

Betty nods quickly, her voice soft as she agrees, “Right.” 

She tries not to think about the night before, when Betty had reminded Hal and Alice about the game, only for them to complain about how busy things were at the newspaper since they’d been forced to lay off two staff writers to stay afloat. “We can leave early if you _absolutely need us to_ , Betty,” they’d said, over and over, until she felt guilty enough to give them the free pass they were asking for. She doesn’t believe their promise to attend the next game.

Penny blows the whistle, a very welcome respite from her anxious thoughts. “Huddle up, girls!” Everyone forms a circle, sticks touching in the center. 

“Prudence and I just got back from talking to the refs and I think this is gonna be a good, clean first game of the season for us,” Penny continues. “You girls ready?” The girls cheer in return. Coach Peabody peers down at her clipboard. She’d announced the starting line-up at the end of practice the day before. Toni is the only freshman who will be starting, as a forward. “Now, we have one change to the roster. Elspeth seems to have pulled something in her leg during gym class earlier today, so she’s gonna have to sit this first game out.”

Everyone turns to see Elspeth sitting on the bench, icing her leg. She waves. “Go get ‘em, Ethel!” she calls. Ethel’s face turns bright red, her eyes wide. From either side of Ethel, Betty and Midge give her encouraging pats on the arm as all the girls cheer.

Penny laughs. “Way to spoil the surprise, Elspeth.”

“Sorry, Coach!”

“Elspeth is correct. She and I both agreed: Ethel, you’re up. I want you to sub in as the starting full-back.”

.

.

.

By the half-time mark, Riverdale High is holding Centerville off at a 0-0 tie, which is actually doing _amazing_ by team standards. At least, according to Pepper, who has been standing next to Betty on the sidelines since she got subbed out ten minutes into the game. 

Centerville almost scores about two minutes before the half, Trula having miscalculated in her attempt to defend the shot. Somehow, Ethel manages to lunge at the right time and block it herself, inciting a roar of support from the sidelines.

(Little does Ethel Muggs know that, from this day forward, she will remain starting full-back for the rest of her Riverdale High field hockey career.)

Betty has resigned herself to not playing during this first game—even feeling kinda bad that Jughead is here for seemingly nothing—until Penny calls a time-out only a few minutes into the second half.

“Cooper!” Penny barks and Betty looks up, startled, from where her eyes had been trailing the ground. “You’re going in as a forward on the left!” Betty nods quickly. “Toni moves to the center, and Prudence, you stay on the right. I’m keeping Dorcas and Josie in their places on half-back; Pepper, go back in too. Ethel, Agatha, Tina, you’re killing it out there as our defensive line. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

Betty tries to concentrate on everything Penny, then Prudence says. She shoves her eye mask down more securely as the players smack their sticks together and yell the cheer: “We are Bulldogs! We are sisters!”

The ref blows her whistle and it’s time. Not practice, not a summer camp game, not a scrimmage. For the first time, Betty is jogging across the grass into a real field hockey game. She pops her mouthguard in, gripping her stick and scanning the field as she tries to concentrate. 

Things move quicker on the field in an actual game, and before Betty knows it, she has possession of the ball, dribbling steadily and looking for someone to pass to.

A mere minute later, Toni scores the first Riverdale High field hockey goal of the season. As Toni runs back to the 50-line with the ball in hand, Betty and the rest of the team cheering and following, her eye catches on the light reflected off the metal bleachers. Jughead is on his feet now and she’s quite sure she’s never seen him clap so hard in her young life.

* * *

Jughead realizes that he’s in love with his best friend the first time he sees Betty in her field hockey uniform.

He supposes it’s possible—probable, even—that his love for Betty Cooper has been there all along. And yet, all it takes is a pleated skirt and sleeveless jersey for Jughead to become conscious of it.

( _I’m disgusting_ , he’ll later whisper to himself, sinking lower in the corner booth of Pop’s as if everyone around him can somehow read his mind. He’ll sigh, closing another Word document without saving it, his writing _yet again_ having devolved into a detailed description of what Betty Cooper looks like when bent down over her stick, lining up a shot on the field.)

Now, Jughead shifts on the sparsely-populated metal bleachers, rubbing his hands together as he attempts to follow the gameplay, made less interesting by the fact that Betty is still standing on the sidelines. 

She clutches her pink field hockey stick, back turned to him as she watches the game alongside her teammates. Her ponytail is higher than usual, looped around the protective eye mask all the girls are wearing. Still, he’d recognize that ponytail anywhere. Ever since the day Fred Andrews stooped down in his front yard to make sure Archie’s new friend Jughead Jones had a chance to meet his neighbor Betty Cooper.

Jughead and Betty took to each other instantly, trading his worn Baxter Brothers books for her Tracy True paperbacks. All of Jughead’s most treasured childhood memories feature their inseparable trio— “The Three Musketeers,” Fred Andrews affectionately dubbed them. Maybe it shouldn’t be that surprising Jughead is feeling things for Betty now. Except, it is. Because Jughead never really had a chance to think about kissing Betty Cooper back in those days, when everyone was talking like it was Archie Andrews’ divine right to do so. 

Betty’s obvious, childlike crush on Archie had been the subject of many jokes and predictions by their parents growing up. It all felt like a nuisance to Jughead, to be honest. He never understood it. When the three of them hung out, Betty and Archie were the two most likely to disagree on what to play. He remembers his younger self thinking: _don’t people who kiss have to have things in common?_

But Jughead kept those thoughts to himself. He could be found reading or writing, hanging out in Archie’s treehouse with his friends or giving Betty reassurance whenever Archie ditched them for another girl. 

He’s pretty sure the only reason he can even tolerate Veronica Lodge is because she managed to end said nuisance for good. Her arrival set off a chain of events that led to Betty crying on Jughead’s shoulder one final time. _Because Betty Cooper,_ he thinks proudly, _is surprisingly resilient_. Within a couple months of Veronica and Archie’s very public first kiss, Betty was back to her usual self and he hadn’t heard her talk about Archie in a romantic way since.

Jughead’s nostalgic thoughts are interrupted when Coach Peabody calls for a time-out. Jughead watches the Riverdale High players huddle up, squeezing water into their mouths and pulling up their eye masks. Betty looks nervous and he soon finds out why—when the ref’s whistle blows and the players jog back onto the field, Betty is among them.

He grins, watching Betty set herself up, stick at the ready. He’s been in gym class with Betty Cooper many times before, and he recognizes that unmistakable stance. 

Riverdale High has the ball. The ref blows the whistle again to restart the clock, and Prudence hits a penalty shot off the side of the 50-yard line. He watches Dorcas receive the ball, dribbling up the field before passing off to Betty on her left. Jughead’s stomach drops a little and he finds himself standing up in the bleachers, craning to get a closer look. 

Betty manages to grab the ball before a defender can intercept, running up the field dribbling. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s done it until it’s over—until Betty has successfully passed the ball to Toni, in perfect position to score—but Jughead Jones finds himself full-on screaming and cheering at a high school sports game.

* * *

Riverdale ends up losing to Centerville High, 2-1. But “we _scored_ ,” Penny reminds them. Not to mention, “we held the other team off for the _entire_ first half.” Both of Centerville’s goals, in fact, had been scored during second-half penalty corners. By Riverdale High’s usual standards, all of this was definitely cause for celebration. 

The other team looks legitimately bewildered when they file past them toward their bus at the same time that the Riverdale High team huddle concludes with an abundance of hugs and raucous cheering. 

Betty loves it. As the girls pack up their bags, everyone compliments each other on what they’d done well during the game. The freshmen girls hug good-bye before they run to catch their rides. Betty’s the last one left, taking a minute to watch some of the senior girls dancing to their cars, swinging their keys, laughing and carefree. 

And then she notices that Jughead is patiently waiting for her in the parking lot, hands in his pockets. 

* * *

“If it isn’t star field hockey player Betty Cooper,” Jughead says in his usual teasing voice. 

She grins. “Thank you so much for coming, Jug.”

Jughead gulps, trying not to let his gaze linger on Betty’s long legs in her field hockey skirt. “I wouldn’t miss it, Betts. Look, I don’t know why Archie and all of them…”

Betty shakes her head, cutting him off before he can finish. Honestly, _he’s_ not even sure where he was going with that thought. “Can we go to Pop’s?” Betty asks in a voice that reminds Jughead of being seven years old again. 

Jughead nods quickly, never one to turn down Pop’s. “Took the words right out of my mouth! As long as you’re okay with walking. I...think my parents are at work.”

Betty laughs, starting across the parking lot as Jughead follows her. “So are mine. As you can see, they made no effort to see my field hockey debut.”

Jughead shakes his head. They fall into step as they finally exit the parking lot and head in the direction of the diner. “Their loss, Betts.”

Betty smiles. “I _really_ am glad you came, Jug,” she says softly.

.

.

.

“Your usuals, kids?” Pop asks as he stops at their table. They managed to snag Jughead’s usual corner booth, to his great pleasure.

“Yes. And can we also get a sundae? We’re celebrating Betty’s first field hockey game here,” Jughead says, internally giggling when Betty’s face turns bright red.

“Oh, Betty! I was so busy I almost didn’t notice your uniform. Go Bulldogs!” Pop says, grabbing their menus and promising to put their orders in ASAP. 

“I hate you,” Betty says to Jughead, face still a little red as she buries her face in her hands.

“You love me.”

“You just want an excuse to eat ice cream.”

“I plead the Fifth,” Jughead says and Betty giggles, pushing herself back up to full height just as a waitress drops off their milkshakes. A silence falls over the table as they both take generous sips.

“So,” Betty says, swirling her straw around. “High school.”

“High school,” Jughead agrees. “How are we feeling about this strange new institution a week and a half in?”

Betty frowns, considering. “We feel...like this whole damn thing is anticlimactic and odd and just...not as fun as everyone always said it would be.”

Jughead shoots her an incredulous look.

“Okay,” Betty concedes. “As fun as _Polly_ said it’d be.”

“Well, there’s your problem right there, Betts,” Jughead says. “I feel that when it comes to high school, you should aim to do the precise opposite of what your sister does.”

Betty laughs, shaking her head. “What am I gonna do with you, Jughead Jones?”

Their food arrives not a minute later, and Jughead, ironically, feels the best he has since high school started.

.

.

.

Jughead insists on walking Betty home, and she doesn’t object.

“I miss you living on the block, Jug,” she says when they reach her familiar red door, a pang in Jughead’s chest as she initiates a hug good-bye.

“Me too,” Jughead says when he pulls back. 

“Well, thanks for walking me home,” she says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jughead nods solemnly as Betty shoots him one last smile and closes the front door behind her. Jughead lets out a deep sigh, looking up at the darkening evening sky and internally weighing his options.

A minute later, Fred Andrews is opening the door to Jughead’s guilty face.

“Hey, Mr. Andrews,” he says. “Is there any way I could stay here tonight? I just walked all the way from Pop’s with Betty and I’m too tired to walk back across town.” The lie comes easily, shame pushing the truth all the way down. 

Fred opens the door wide immediately, welcoming Jughead inside and making him promise to call his parents as he scurries up to Archie’s bedroom. Jughead knocks twice, not wanting to repeat the mistake he’d made last time he stayed over at Archie’s and accidentally walked in on his best friend masturbating. 

“Jug?” Archie says, a confused look painting his face as he opens his bedroom door. “What are you doing here?”

Jughead feeds Archie the same story he told Fred, relieved when his friend doesn’t question it. Together, they haul the air mattress from its familiar cupboard in the hallway and tuck in the spare sheets from Archie’s dresser.

“What were you and Betty doing at Pop’s at this time anyway?” Archie asks curiously as they settle side by side on the end of Archie’s bed and wait for his XBOX 360 to turn on.

Jughead tries not to blush. There’s no way Archie could be getting at what Jughead _thinks_ he’s getting at, right? “We decided to go after her field hockey game,” Jughead explains. “To celebrate.”

Archie’s face is suddenly horrified. “ _Oh_. Betty’s field hockey game was…”

“Today,” Jughead supplies, a disappointed expression on his face. There’s an awkward silence as they each pick up their controller and switch through character settings. 

When they hit another loading screen, Archie turns to Jughead and says softly, “I kind of feel like an asshole.”

Jughead shrugs, unsure what to say. What is he _supposed_ to say? He takes the easy way out, merely stating a fact: “Betty is our best friend, Archie. She’s always been there for us.”

“Yeah,” Archie says with an awkward cough.

From what Jughead can tell, they’re both relieved for the distraction the game provides when it finally loads. 

* * *

At lunch the next day, Betty sits next to Jughead, trying not to look too hurt when Cheryl and Veronica arrive talking about some mundane River Vixen drama, Veronica then turning to Betty with a half-hearted “how’s your day going, B?” 

Jughead nudges Betty on the arm when she can’t think of anything to say but, “Um.”

“It’s been a historic 24 hours,” Jughead insists and Betty nudges him back. 

“You don’t have to be so dramatic, Jug,” she says through gritted teeth. “Our first field hockey game went well.”

“Oh my God, B! Totally slipped my mind,” Veronica says. Cheryl nods sympathetically.

“So you won, then?” Cheryl asks, preemptively clapping her hands together.

Betty blushes, biting her lip and looking down at her sandwich. “Uh, no. But we held them off for the _entire_ first half and Toni scored our first goal of the season!” 

Why did those words sound positive and uplifting less than a day earlier? Now they just sound empty and depressing. The fake smiles on Veronica and Cheryl’s faces tell Betty that they’re unsure how to process this information. It makes Betty’s stomach hurt in a peculiar way. 

Archie drops down next to Veronica with his tray. “Hey Betty!” he says. “Jughead told me you _killed it_ at the game yesterday. I’m so proud!” He offers his hand for a high-five and Betty wonders when Jughead would’ve had time to remind Archie about her game. 

“Thanks Archie,” Betty says. 

Any further discussion of Betty’s burgeoning field hockey career is soon drowned out by Cheryl declaring that her older brother, Jason—the star quarterback of the Riverdale High football team—is throwing a huge back-to-school party at Thistlehouse on Saturday night. Only the Blossom siblings could get away with throwing “the biggest bash of the year” at their family’s second home.

Cheryl barely waits until Kevin sets his tray down to launch into this monologue. “Everyone _needs_ to be there,” she says enthusiastically in conclusion. 

Archie and Kevin immediately agree, looking excited. Jughead sinks down lower into his seat, if possible, saying nothing.

“Of _course_!” Veronica says. Then, a gasp. “We should coordinate our outfits.”

“Yes!” Kevin agrees. “V, can we get ready at the Pembrooke?”

“Forget the Pembrooke! Come early to Thistlehouse and get ready with me!” Cheryl insists. Veronica and Kevin immediately agree. It takes Betty a minute to realize all three of them are looking at her expectantly.

“Oh,” she says weakly. “Uh...I _think_ I can go to the party. But not sure I’ll be able to swing getting ready early.” She digs around in her brain for a white lie. “Field hockey thing.”

Thankfully, no one questions her excuse and the rest of lunch passes quickly, Betty and Jughead mostly quietly listening as the rest of their table gabs excitedly about the upcoming party. Betty’s almost grateful when, one by one, everyone else peels off with various excuses.

“Jug,” Betty says quietly, when it’s only them left.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t really wanna go to that party.”

Jughead looks a little relieved, rubbing his eyes as he agrees, “Yeah, me either.”

“But I feel like we have to go.”

Jughead sighs, nodding in agreement. “That’s sure what it sounded like.” 

“Could...do you think we should meet up early and go together?”

His face screwed up in confusion, Jughead says, “But I thought you said something about field hockey…”

Betty blushes, watching realization dawn on Jughead’s face. “Don’t tell?”

Jughead laughs, nodding and taking a final swig of his chocolate milk. “Secret’s safe with me, Betts. Just let me know where to meet you and when.”

.

.

.

Saturday arrives, and Betty has never been more grateful to hear that Polly is getting ready with the other senior River Vixens. Without her sister around to veto her outfit, Betty gets away with leaving the house in skinny jeans and a tucked-in pink blouse, tying her hair back in its usual ponytail. She just wants to be comfortable and for this night to end as quickly as possible.

She meets Jughead at a halfway point between their houses and they walk the rest of the journey to the party together. Jughead has just seen a new true crime documentary that he’s bursting to tell her about, and by the time they reach the manicured front lawn of Thistlehouse, Betty wishes they could just keep walking, past the house and to the edge of town and back. 

But they both stop, standing on the walkway and listening to the dull bass and raucous laughter coming from inside. A car pulls up across the street, a group of older girls tumbling out screaming and laughing. Betty and Jughead narrowly avoid getting bumped by a couple of them. Betty can smell the vodka on their breath.

She sighs. “I don’t want to drink,” she says quietly to Jughead when the girls have passed.

Jughead sounds relieved when he responds, “Me neither.”

“Okay,” Betty says, another deep breath out. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

.

.

.

Betty has never felt so wildly out of place. As they navigate through the crowded living room searching for their friends, Jughead grabs Betty’s arm to keep one of the junior football players from slamming into her. 

“Jesus,” Betty mumbles under her breath.

“Go Bulldogs,” Jughead says sarcastically. 

When they finally reach an emptier hallway, they pause to breathe. Betty sighs. “I bet you everyone’s in the kitchen.”

A couple drunk football players sprint past as Betty leads them down the familiar path to the kitchen. It _does_ help that they’ve attended past Cheryl Blossom parties at Thistlehouse.

“Did you go to the football game last night?” Jughead asks, rolling his eyes. 

Betty groans, nodding. “I wish you’d been there. It was just me and Kevin in the stands.”

“Don’t you have another home game this week?” 

Betty shoots him a confused look. “Yes…”

“Then that’s enough Riverdale High sports for me,” Jughead explains, winking at her as they enter the kitchen to find that Betty is correct—their friends are among the partygoers crowded around the marble island. 

“Betty!” Veronica shrieks, running over to them and practically tackling Betty in a hug.

“ _Oh_ ,” Betty says, wincing at the impact of Veronica slamming into her at full force. “Hey, V. How’s it going?”

“Jason made us the tastiest drinks!” Veronica says, practically screaming in Betty’s ear. “You guys want one?” 

Before they can answer, Kevin runs around the kitchen island with two red plastic cups in hand. “I can fill you up?” he offers, his words slurring a bit. 

Betty feels a palpable discomfort lodging itself in her chest. It’s strange to see her friends like this. Sure, she’s seen plenty of high school movies, and she _knew_ that both Charles and Polly drank at parties. Betty just always figured she’d get to ease into it. She didn’t think she’d already have to refuse a red cup that smells like nail polish remover only two weeks into high school.

“Um,” Betty exchanges an awkward glance with Jughead, who’s seemingly attempting to bore a hole into the ground with his eyes. “We’re good, actually.”

Archie looks confused and Betty realizes her friend’s face is flushed even redder than usual. “You guys sure?” Archie says, looking between Jughead and Betty as if he’s only just considered the possibility that someone would refuse a drink.

“Positive,” Jughead says, much harsher than Betty’s refusal sounded, and the conversation thankfully ends there.

Betty and Jughead hang out with their friends in the kitchen for about a half hour, talking and laughing and watching their friends load up their cups with more of the lethal-smelling punch. They awkwardly move to follow the group when a Rihanna song comes on that has Veronica and Cheryl running toward the makeshift dance floor in the living room. 

Betty quickly loses track of their friends in the crowd; when she finds Cheryl and Veronica again, they’re in the center of the room dancing, jutting their hips in a way she could never picture herself capable of mastering.

“ _Betty_?”

She turns at her sister’s voice, back stiffening. Red cup to match her flushed face, Polly is wearing a strappy black dress and heels that Betty has never seen before. But then again, Betty knows that Polly has stashed clothes at her friends’ houses before to circumvent Alice. 

“Hey, Pol,” she says nervously.

“Surprised to see you two...here,” Polly says, carefully inspecting Jughead’s get-up, from the flannel tied around his waist to the signature beanie, before turning to glare at Betty’s simple outfit.

“Cheryl invited us,” Betty says. 

“Where’s your drink?” Polly asks suspiciously. 

Betty swallows. “I...decided not to drink tonight.”

Polly rolls her eyes. “God, Betty, could you _be_ more boring?” 

She gives Jughead one more long, judgmental stare before turning and joining the throng of scantily-clad River Vixens dancing farther into the living room.

* * *

“I see Polly is as charming as ever,” Jughead says when Betty’s older sister is finally out of earshot. He frowns at the deflated look on Betty’s face.

She snorts. “I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

“Betty! Jug!”

Jughead cringes at the sound of Archie’s slurred voice. He throws his arms around both of them despite the nearly-full cup of alcoholic punch sloshing in his hand.

“Hey, Arch,” Jughead says weakly. 

“Come on, guys! Have _fun_ with us!” he yells suddenly and Betty, startled, instinctively backs away from Archie.

“Maybe don’t scream in our ears, bud,” Jughead tries. 

“Sorry!” Archie says, though he barely reduces the volume.

Jughead manages to gently remove Archie’s arm so the three of them are standing in an awkward semi-circle, Betty edged closer to Jughead. Jughead realizes, with a pang, that she must not be quite as used to being around drunk people as he is.

“ _Are_ you guys having fun though?” Archie says next. 

Betty frowns. “Don’t worry about us, Arch,” she tries. Jughead knows she has trouble lying. _But maybe that’s the old Betty Cooper_ , he thinks, remembering her white lie to get out of pregaming with Cheryl and Veronica.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to your field hockey game, Betty!” Archie yells and Betty blushes, exchanging a puzzled look with Jughead, who shrugs. 

“It’s okay, Archie,” Betty says. “There’ll be plenty more.”

“Nuh-uh!” Archie says, poking Jughead’s chest as he says the next part, Jughead’s stomach swooping with anxiety when he realizes what’s about to happen. “Jughead seemed disappointed in me when he stayed over that night.” 

Betty shoots him a confused look and Jughead reddens, unsure what to say. He’s never been more excited to spot Reggie Mantle walking toward them through the crowd, whooping and cheering for God-knows-what-reason. 

“Hey, Reggie!” Jughead says enthusiastically, eliciting a confused look from Reggie but the desired result from Archie, who immediately initiates a drunken edition of the pair’s secret handshake. Reggie and Archie disappear into the crowd together searching for Veronica a minute later, leaving Betty and Jughead standing on the edge of the dance floor in silence.

“I hate this,” Betty says, catching Jughead off guard with her bluntness. He laughs at the pout on her face.

Jughead slides his flip phone out of his back pocket and checks the time. “We’ve been here over an hour. I say, we’ve done our time.”

Betty grins as he offers his arm, tilting his head toward the front door. “Let’s get out of here, Betts.” 

Betty holds onto him as he shoves through the crowd of drunken teenagers and he tries not to think too hard about the way it burns where their skin touches.

.

.

.

They both take a moment outside to let the September air cool their warm faces.

“I didn’t think it was possible for there to be ‘too many people’ inside that huge house,” Jughead says, adjusting his beanie. 

Betty laughs. “Leave it to the Blossoms,” she says. Awkwardly, she tips her head in the direction they came from. “Shall we?”

He nods, shoving his hands in his pockets and falling into step with Betty as they cross the lawn once again. They walk in silence for a couple minutes. 

Jughead glances at Betty as they turn the corner to find her biting her lip, a conflicted look on her face. Jughead internally sighs, remembering that a very drunk Archie had ratted him out. Should he bring it up first, or just continue like this, waiting until Betty can’t help but ask herself?

They cross another few blocks in companionable silence while he weighs his options. 

“Jug…” Betty finally says, slowing her pace as they near where they’d met up earlier.

“I’m walking you all the way home, Betts,” he says firmly, continuing his steady pace. He feels a little guilty when he hears Betty’s steps behind him hurrying to catch up.

“Oh. Thanks,” she says quietly. 

He sighs before taking the plunge, ultimately trusting that Betty will understand.

“I don’t really know how to say this,” Jughead says and Betty looks up at him, her eyes wide. “Over the summer…” He breathes in again deep. “Over the summer, my mom left us. She had enough of my dad’s drinking and took off with Jellybean.”

Betty stops in her tracks, eyes glassy as she processes this information. Jughead stops too, turning back around and watching her face for the pity he fears. But he only sees pain. 

“Jug,” she says, voice thick. “I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me sooner.”

Jughead shakes his head. _Betty Cooper is too good for this world_. “Don’t even apologize. I haven’t told anyone.”

“Not even Archie?” Betty asks.

“Not even Archie,” Jughead confirms. “Sorry that I sorta omitted that I crashed at Archie’s after your game, though. I just didn’t tell Archie the real reason I needed to stay over.”

“Ah,” Betty says. 

They start walking again without even discussing it, as only old friends can do. 

After a couple minutes, Betty breaks the silence. “So, FP’s bad again, huh?” she asks, voice quiet. 

Back in fifth grade, before FP got clean, Jughead had confided in only Betty and Archie about how destructive and scary his dad could become when he drank. They’d been there for him as much as eleven-year-olds could be. And then, somehow, Fred and Mary Andrews had been able to help Gladys Jones convince FP to go to rehab. 

But when FP slowly but surely fell off the wagon the year before—right around the time the bank foreclosed on their house on Elm Street—Jughead had clammed up. Like maybe if he didn’t talk about FP’s alcoholism, it wouldn’t exist. 

Jughead swallows, choosing his words carefully. “My dad was on a bender the day of your field hockey game,” he says. “Considering I narrowly avoided a drunken slap in the face on Day 2, I decided to sleep elsewhere on Day 3.”

“Oh, Jug,” she says, voice full of pain. “I’m so sorry. I...can try to ask Alice…”

Jughead shakes his head, laughing. He knows better than anyone how much Alice would hate having to offer refuge to Jughead Jones. “I appreciate the thought, Betts, but I’m okay. I mean, I lied through my teeth to Archie and Fred, but they didn’t question it. I know they’ll always take me in if I need them to.”

Betty nods. “Okay,” she says, and he knows that, ultimately, she won’t argue with what he wants. He appreciates that about her. 

She asks if he misses Jellybean, and _how does she know that’s exactly what he needed someone to ask_? 

Betty lets Jughead vent about his little sister for the rest of their walk.

When they reach Betty’s house ten minutes later, Betty stops in front of the walkway and flings herself into Jughead’s arms, holding him in a gentle hug that lasts a long time. Jughead can feel his heart hammering in his chest and hopes it isn’t _too_ obvious to Betty.

When Betty pulls back, she shoots him a soft smile. “You’re okay to go home tonight?”

Jughead nods. “I’m okay,” he promises.

“You know I’m _always_ here for you, Jug, right?” Betty insists, a gritty passion in her voice that makes Jughead gulp as he replies, “Yes.”

She nods and heads up her walkway, turning back to wave and smile at him one last time before disappearing behind the red door.

Jughead watches her until it closes, letting out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His heart hurts at the gentle care in Betty’s voice, the emotion on her face, how soft and warm she felt in his arms. 

He pulls his Walkman out of his flannel pocket and shoves his headphones over his ears, resolving to take the long way home. He has a _lot_ of thoughts to sort out concerning his best friend. 

A newer find comes next on his mix—“Myriad Harbour” by The New Pornographers—and the whimsical lyrics transport him to a perfect future, where Betty and Jughead have escaped this shitty town.

_I walked into the local record store and asked for an American music anthology._ _It sounds fun._ _They tore at my skirt and stuck it on the walls at P.S.1._

He can see them now, walking hand in hand in the East Village, sifting through records or kissing in the corner of a late-night subway car. In his daydreams, they’re blissfully in love.

 _I took a plane, I took a train_ — _ah, who cares? You always end up in the city._

_Stranded at Bleecker and Broadway, and looking for something to do._

He traces a heart in the dirt as he crosses through a shortcut. Though he knows his secrets will always be safe with Betty, letting her in even a little has only hardened his resolve—no one else can _ever_ find out how many nights Jughead’s been afraid to go home. He shakes his head, giving in to the default teenage impulse to drown everything out. 

It’s easier to get lost in his Walkman, turn up the volume loud, and sink back into his romantic New York City daydreams. Jughead starts the song again, letting The New Pornographers guide him to Sunnyside Trailer Park.

_Someone somewhere asked me, "Is there anything in particular I can help you with?"_ _All I ever wanted help with was you._

* * *

The third week of school starts, and things begin to kick into gear. It soon becomes routine—Betty’s friends never come to her games. Then, they stop mentioning the existence of field hockey altogether and Betty just doesn’t have the heart to bring it up herself.

Technically, Betty knows that sometimes field hockey games do overlap with football games or River Vixen practices. But there are also plenty of times when Polly comes home blabbing about some inane social event that Betty’s friends were clearly attending in lieu of her game. Betty distinctly remembers the fall of Polly’s sophomore year, when she went steady with a soccer player for the entire season—the one time Betty has _ever_ seen her sister kiss a non-football player. Ever the faithful girlfriend, Polly had managed to attend multiple home soccer games on top of her usual River Vixen duties.

And while River Vixen and football duties can _maybe_ excuse Archie, Veronica, and Cheryl, Betty’s pretty sure that Kevin has glommed onto football culture as a feeble excuse to spend more time around his hopeless crush, Moose Mason. Moose has been dating her teammate Midge since the seventh grade, but then again, Kevin was the only Riverdale Middle School student to come out in the eighth grade. Maybe Kevin sees something the rest of them haven’t yet.

And Betty _knows_ the field is shitty and much more out of the way than the football field, that it’s in the part of town that Cheryl hates. She knows she played it off herself over the summer, insisting maybe too hard that she was just joining the field hockey team for her college application. In some ways, Betty is happy to fly under the radar, eat lunch with all her friends but refuse invitations to parties. She knows from just her first party experience alone that she isn’t missing out on anything she finds fun. But still, it hurts to know that Betty and Jughead have suddenly become the outliers.

The day it _really_ clicks for Betty, Polly’s giving her a ride home from practice. Amidst her sister’s usual mindless River Vixen gossip, Betty realizes that newly-minted Vixens Cheryl and Veronica have replaced the faceless girls who used to fill Polly’s stories. She listens closer for a minute, hearing what maybe she was a little too afraid to hear before: how awkward and strange it sounds for Polly to be talking about Archie and Reggie and Moose as if they’re suddenly part of her world and not just her sister’s annoying little friends. 

The politics of Riverdale High have shifted their friend group in an irreversible way, whether she likes it or not. And maybe the strangest part is that for Betty, it’s a little of both.

.

.

.

September fades to October without much fanfare. Betty watches the leaves turn orange and yellow and red from behind the smudged windows of the bus to and from away games. 

She attends pasta dinners with her teammates the night before home games, the sweaty girls packed into overcrowded dining rooms, elbow to elbow biting into rolls and laughing at inside jokes. 

Betty sees her old friends every day, in the mornings gathered in the student lounge and at their usual cafeteria table during lunch. Sometimes, Archie will duck over to the football table or Cheryl and Veronica will disappear early to tend to some urgent Vixen duty. Often, Betty and Jughead are left alone at the table to chat and laugh until the bell rings. 

Outside the structure and routine of field hockey, it feels like life is sort of just... _happening_ to Betty. Her friends don’t seem to be her friends in the same way they were in middle school, inseparable and waiting at each other’s lockers to go into the lunchroom together. Veronica’s once-endless series of invitations to stay at the Pembrooke have become more infrequent. In fact, Betty isn’t even sure she knows who Veronica is currently dating—information she used to know before even Cheryl did. 

But as much as Betty misses the way things used to be with Veronica and Cheryl and Kevin, she’s also excited for afternoons on the field, laughing and practicing with the little family Coach Peabody has created. 

By the third week in school, Betty gets into the habit of meeting the other three freshmen girls out front. They all walk together to Svenson for practice, swinging their field hockey sticks and laughing about a ref they keep getting assigned with the strangest hand gestures for penalties they’ve ever seen.

On home game days, the junior and senior girls corral the freshmen and sophomores into their cars and drive to Svenson together. (“We need everyone to have _ample_ time to stretch on game days,” Prudence explained in a no-nonsense voice.) 

The first time this happens, Betty ends up sitting in Ethel’s lap, stomach fluttering at the thought of Alice Cooper finding out about this (albeit short) journey without a seatbelt safely fastened across her front. But wind whipping her face through the open skylight, a summery indie pop song playing as Pepper and Josie belt along in front, Betty realizes she’s never felt more exhilarated.

Still, away game days might be her favorite—Toni always saves her a seat on the bus. They usually share earbuds and listen to music on Betty’s old pink iPod. Sometimes they work on their English homework together. Other days they talk for the entire trip. It’s during one such ride that Toni curiously asks Betty a question she suspects has been on Toni’s mind for a while: “who exactly _is_ the mysterious boy with the beanie who always comes to our home games?” 

Betty laughs at the idea of Jughead as “mysterious.” But from the resulting conversation, Betty finds out that Toni has an Archie and Jughead of her own—two boys named Fangs and Sweet Pea who she grew up with in Sunnyside Trailer Park.

(“I’ll keep a lookout for your friend around the trailer park…but are you _sure_ you and Jughead are just friends?” Toni asks incredulously.

Confused, Betty says, “Yeahh...well, _best_ friends. Why do you ask?”

Toni shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess it just seemed like you two were a couple.”

Betty must’ve shrugged it off at the time, because she doesn’t remember it until much later, when she eventually realizes Toni was right all along.)

Perhaps one of the most fun parts of away games, though, is when they’re about ten minutes away from their destination. Prudence will usually turn around to deliver a rousing pep talk to the team, always filled with at least 20% side-splitting jokes. 

Though their losing record holds up, with only one tie to their name by early October, Betty has never felt prouder to be part of the Riverdale High field hockey team. In just a little over a month, Betty weirdly can’t imagine her life without it.

* * *

It’s the second week in October when Archie invites Betty and Jughead over on Saturday night. He sells it as a “Three Musketeers hang-out,” inspiring Betty to spend a full five minutes persuading Jughead to go after everyone else has left them alone in the student lounge yet again.

Betty seems to still feel this sense of loyalty to their childhood friends that’s been fading for Jughead with every day that passes without his friends asking him how he really is. He’s not sure he’d even be comfortable telling anyone but Betty about his parental situation, but it would be nice to at least have the option. It stings, after such a harsh rejection by his mother, that his oldest friends—even Archie—have been rejecting him too.

So, yes, Betty manages to convince him that some time with just the three of them could be exactly what the doctor ordered.

.

.

.

Unfortunately, the scene awaiting Betty and Jughead in Archie’s garage is anything but a “Three Musketeers hangout.”

When they push open the door, Archie’s sitting on the couch with his arm slung casually around an unfamiliar Latina girl who’s laughing way too loudly. _Jughead has it on good authority that Archie is never_ that _funny._

“Hey!” Betty says enthusiastically as the door bangs open, eyes widening when she spots the girl. “Uh…”

“Hey, Archie,” Jughead says. “Do you want us to give you a minute?”

“What? No!” Archie quickly rises to his feet. “This is my new friend, Ginger Lopez! She’s a freshman too, but she went to Southside Middle.” 

In the time Archie turns to smile at Ginger, Betty shoots Jughead her patented _what-the-fuck-is-Archie-doing-now?_ face. Jughead shrugs, widening his eyes in turn, before they both plaster fake smiles on their faces just as Archie and Ginger turn back to them. 

“Nice to meet you, Ginger,” Betty says in her best Alice Cooper voice. “I’m Betty Cooper.”

“Jughead Jones,” Jughead offers. He’s barely done introducing himself before Archie starts waxing poetic about how Betty and Jughead are his oldest and dearest friends in the world. Jughead smiles and nods, though the sentiment feels weak when the garage door opens a few minutes later to reveal Kevin, Cheryl, Reggie, and Veronica, who looks suspicious the second she walks in. 

“Ginger,” Veronica says, her voice level and unemotional.

“Veronica,” the girl spits back, flipping her hair over her shoulder and moving closer to Archie on the couch.

Jughead watches Betty get up to hug their friends and somehow messes up the high-five Reggie tries to offer him. Once everyone has settled in, Jughead lands between Betty and Kevin, trying to keep his legs from rustling too much. He can’t help it. Jughead _hates_ awkward situations and he can’t even completely understand the one they’re currently in. Moving past the fact that this is certainly _not_ a Three Musketeers hang-out, Jughead isn’t used to being unable to suss out the romantic situation concerning Archie Andrews. 

Archie and Veronica had been on-again, off-again since that fated seventh grade Seven Minutes in Heaven kiss at Cheryl Blossom’s house. Their varied and frequent conflicts had been difficult for Jughead to keep track of even before the unspoken rules of high school intervened. From the way Archie and Veronica eye each other awkwardly, he figures another rift must’ve occurred without him noticing. 

Back in middle school when they’d break up, Archie would eventually find Jughead to vent, knowing that despite his sardonic comments, Jughead would always listen. But now? It’s strange, a month into high school, to realize he doesn't know for sure what their status is. _Guess that’s what happens when Archie drowns himself in football and...a new girlfriend?_ He really can’t tell. Reggie and Veronica are carrying on an obviously-faked, loud conversation about the River Vixen bake sale, and Betty’s eyes are trailing between Ginger and Veronica with curiosity, undoubtedly trying to make the same connection Jughead is. 

The plot thickens when Archie stands up to grab his guitar. 

“You playing us one of your songs, Andrews?” Reggie barks, Veronica stone-faced beside him. You couldn’t pay Jughead to be on the receiving end of that stare.

“Just a little something I wrote recently,” Archie says, shrugging and winking at Ginger. Veronica crosses her arms and leans back as Archie begins strumming.

A minute into the song—fairly average and lacking in lyrical integrity, if you ask Jughead—everything goes to shit and Betty and Jughead have truly no idea why. 

One second Archie is crooning about “destiny” and the next Veronica is ripping the necklace off from around her neck and flinging it at him. Then the screaming starts.

“No matter what year it is, you can’t escape the Varchie drama, huh?” Reggie jokes, reaching for an open bag of chips and putting his feet on the coffee table. Betty and Jughead can’t help but laugh. If nothing else, Reggie is always good for a little comic relief.

.

.

.

While Reggie gives Archie some sort of pep talk and Cheryl and Kevin run after Veronica, Jughead is left alone with Betty yet again. 

They quickly share observations about the so-called Varchie situation—Betty had somehow deduced that Ginger is _definitely_ a fellow River Vixen and that she may or may not be an innocent pawn in Veronica and Archie’s latest feud. However, with strong arguments supporting each hypothesis, they find the case ultimately inconclusive. 

“So,” Jughead says when they lapse into silence. “How’s the hockey of the field going?”

Betty shrugs. “Okay. Penny’s been starting me at the beginning of the second half for like three games in a row now.”

“Hey, _nice_!” Jughead says and Betty laughs. “What?” he says, mock hurt.

“You trying to sound enthusiastic is just always funny to me,” Betty says, giggling at the wounded expression Jughead adopts. “How about you? How’s that novel of yours coming along?”

“I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about,” he says and she grins at him. _God, he could melt._

“Your secret’s safe with me, Jughead Jones,” she says, a coy smile on her face, tapping his shoulder with hers. “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask: any new song recommendations? I’m hoping to burn a couple mixed CDs for the minivan. I _need_ something to listen to in the morning besides the top-40s radio Polly likes to _torture_ me with.”

“Wow, that’s truly rough, Betty. Pure persecution.”

She nods sagely. “I knew you’d understand my plight. So, any ideas?”

“Why me?” Jughead asks, a little flustered as he goes through a mental catalog of his recent favorite songs, trying to identify which is the least embarrassing to share.

Betty shrugs. “You’re a writer,” she says. “I need stuff with good lyrics. Polly tends to memorize choruses _really_ easily, and I need to hear her belt out something with good diction for once.”

“You flatter me, Betty,” Jughead says as Betty giggles. “I’ll get back to you on Monday?”

“Wow, so prompt. We have a deal, Mr. Jones,” Betty says with a mock-curtsy. 

She changes the subject quickly and he half-listens, a part of him still thinking about music: one song in particular that he keeps replaying lately as he drifts into daydreams about Betty. But will it be too obvious he’s in love with Betty if he burns her a mix that includes “First Day of My Life” by Bright Eyes? _Wow_ , Jughead thinks. _I hate myself._

* * *

“Holy shit, you’re efficient,” Betty says, staring down at the paper CD-sleeve Jughead just placed in front of her at their cafeteria table. He doodled all over it with a blue Sharpie that was clearly almost out of ink, making Betty giggle at his poorly-shaded crowns and ponytails.

Jughead drops into the seat across from her. “Have you ever heard of this little thing called ‘procrastination?’”

Betty laughs. “Why, yes. Was it that history assignment? Because I’m not gonna lie, I still haven’t started…”

Jughead shakes his head. “Oh no, I finished that, actually. I was procrastinating on my nov—” he spots Cheryl and Veronica approaching. “—my other project.”

“Well,” Betty says. “I’m impressed with your work ethic.”

“Just trying to keep up my end of the bargain,” Jughead says. “Four years and we’re out of here, right?”

“Right,” Betty says quickly, just in time for Cheryl and Veronica to sit down beside them. 

“Hey, friends!” Veronica chirps. “We have the _hottest_ gossip.”

Betty tucks the mixed CD away in her binder for later, already looking forward to playing it on her stereo when she gets home from practice that night. (That way she’ll know _exactly_ which songs to torture Polly with tomorrow morning. _Two can play at this game_.) 

Knowing this is probably the only time she’ll see Veronica and Cheryl all day, Betty bites into her sandwich, settles in, and listens to their latest tale about some senior Bulldog-River Vixen couple Betty couldn’t point out in a line-up if she tried. 

.

.

.

The whistle blows, signaling the end of their game against Greendale—and with it, sealing another Riverdale High field hockey season with zero wins to their name.

But you wouldn’t know it from the way the team huddle erupts into cheers. Penny makes sure to single out every player with a specific compliment on their growth during the season, with extra long applause for the departing seniors. The final home game of the year traditionally constitutes “Senior Day.” Last weekend Betty hitched a ride with Ethel’s mom to Pepper’s house, where all the younger girls made posters to celebrate each of the graduating seniors, now pinned up along the perimeter of the field.

After the huddle has dispersed with a final cheer, Betty ends up sitting in the grass, taking her time removing her gear alongside the other three freshmen. “I can’t believe the season’s already over,” she remarks, pulling off the mustard-yellow socks that pass as “gold” in the Riverdale High field hockey uniform.

“I know!” Toni says, tapping her cleat against the bench to knock off some of the caked mud. “What am I supposed to do now after school?”

“I guess we can finish our homework earlier in the day,” Ethel says, ever-practical, and the other three girls tease her. 

“Well,” Midge says, standing up first and swinging her gym bag over her shoulder. “I, for one, can’t _wait_ to play together again next year.”

“Hear, hear!” Betty says, tying her street sneakers and pulling herself to her feet. 

“Hey, while we’re on the subject of the end of the season,” Toni says, swinging her stick absently as they all wait for Ethel to finish packing up. “Do you guys know what you’re gonna wear to the award banquet dinner next week?”

Betty shrugs. “I guess a semi-nice dress? Like, not as nice as I’d wear to a dance, but…”

“I think I’ll just wear my Easter dress,” Ethel offers. The four of them start ambling toward the parking lot, where most of the other players are already climbing into cars headed for the Senior Day celebration.

“Freshies!” Josie calls from the edge of the lot. She and Pepper stand side by side, swinging their car keys. “Y’all need rides to Prudence’s house?” 

“ _Yes_!” they all yell, enthusiastically racing each other to meet their older friends. 

* * *

“They were robbed,” Jughead grumbles as the whistle blows on the final game of the field hockey season, officially handing Greendale High a 2-1 win over Riverdale. 

No one can hear him; his usual spot in the stands isn’t nearly close enough to either the sizeable Greendale crowd or the comparatively moderate crowd of Riverdale spectators—today, mostly the parents and friends of senior players. But still, Jughead has _opinions_. While a relative field hockey novice, Jughead is quite sure that the _extreme_ aggression shown by the Greendale team should disqualify at least one of their goals.

As Jughead stands up and begins to follow the rest of the fans filing out of the bleachers, he realizes that he’ll miss all of this. He’ll miss watching Betty run up the field, he’ll miss treating her to post-game Pop’s, and, if he’s being honest with himself, he’ll miss spotting Betty in the halls wearing a certain pleated skirt on game days. 

As usual, Jughead stops in the parking lot, leaning against the chain-link fence that poorly divides the parking lot from the path down to the field. He watches the older players hug friends and parents and exchange directions before piling into cars. There’s a festive, Senior Day atmosphere in the air, and Jughead realizes with a pang of disappointment that Betty is likely obligated to be somewhere to mark the occasion. After all, he’d seen the colorful posters.

A couple minutes later, Betty comes running up the path with the other freshmen girls.

Betty smiles wide when she sees him, immediately slowing down to pull him into a friendly embrace while Midge and Ethel run ahead, breathlessly calling “shotgun.” 

“Thanks for coming, Jug!” Betty says and Jughead savors the quick moment of warmth before they pull apart.

“Our most loyal fan,” Betty’s friend Toni adds, shooting him a wink that suggests _someone_ is onto his crush.

“Always, Betts,” he says, avoiding Toni’s eyes and focusing on Betty instead.

“We gotta go to Prudence’s for the Senior Day celebration,” she says, sounding genuinely regretful. “Rain check on celebratory Pop’s?”

“Whenever you want,” he agrees just as Josie and Pepper call again to Betty and Toni to “hurry up, bitches! What if they run out of cake?”

“Sorry, Jug, gotta run!” Betty says as Toni grabs her hand and starts pulling her toward the car. “See you later!” 

“Bye, Beanie Boy!” Toni yells. 

Giggling manically, Betty and Toni run across the parking lot hand in hand before climbing into Josie’s car. Jughead smiles, focusing on the sound of Betty’s laughter for the last precious moments before the car meanders out of the parking lot.

He waits until he can’t see the car anymore to start the walk toward Pop’s, intent on staking out his corner booth so he can get some writing done. He’s inspired, yet again, by Betty Cooper—by how she already seems more _alive_ than she had just two short months earlier.

He doesn’t think about what’s waiting for him at home. He doesn’t grumble about Archie being a lackluster friend. He loses himself completely in the words. For a couple hours, at least, Jughead is content.


	2. chapter two: sophomores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all! Um so first of all: the feedback on this fic has been so overwhelmingly positive and I’ve basically been smiling at my phone at least once a day about it since i posted the first chapter so thank you SO much!! This story feels like the most *me in high school* thing I’ve ever written, and considering i *hated* high school i didn’t think it would ever be possible to write a high school bughead AU! getting such lovely feedback has made me feel so validated in GOING FOR IT!
> 
> Before we get down to business, a slight content warning for racism in this chapter - as someone who played on a racially diverse team, playing all-white teams who use race to intimidate is a real and unfortunate thing. It didn’t happen like all the fucking time but there were incidents here and there, and therefore some of the dialogue in this chapter is based on an actual event that happened to a teammate of mine in high school. And I grew up in northern NJ so no, this isn’t some only-in-the-South problem. I decided to include it because I’m purposefully modeling this team’s make-up off my own. The diversity and sisterhood is the beautiful, wonderful part, but I felt it would be an injustice to reality not to include the sisterhood working together to fight back against racism. Anyway, I hope you’ll enjoy the direction I took that part of the story. Fuck racism, abolish the police and prisons!
> 
> Thanks for reading, loves!  
> Maria

_for your optional listening pleasure:_[mixed cd #2](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/22qGYsEuoH14QkhosO4LvU?si=6JoSkhjaRpK7_dShTW7a9Q)

  


* * *

_Oh yeah, you're the best damn friend that I'll ever have_

_You'll always smile upon me when the season's bad_

_You'll always make me feel best even when I'm blue_

_You'll always smile upon me and I'll smile upon you too_

-passion pit (2008)

* * *

**_fall 2009_ **

“Let’s do this, ladies! Stretch out those legs! You can do it, for the stars say that it is true!” 

Betty lets out a snort, coughing in an attempt to disguise it. Toni shoots her a knowing look where she’s stretching out beside her in the circle. 

When Prudence was captain, it felt like being under the leadership of a kind yet detached older sister. But in the two weeks since Pepper Smith’s reign had begun, she had completely transformed the position through her particular flair for the dramatics.

(“She’s the FDR of Riverdale High field hockey captains,” Toni deadpanned during a preseason rest-break, making Betty and Midge spit out their water laughing.)

“Alright, ladies, backs!” Pepper calls, and everyone switches positions. 

The new stretch has Betty facing Toni, who immediately sticks out her tongue. Betty laughs and makes a weird face back. 

“But forreal, Cooper,” Toni hisses and Betty shoots her a questioning look. (After field hockey season ended last year, Betty and Toni fell into a rhythm of studying together at Pop’s a couple times a month. Now, they know each other’s facial expressions probably _too_ well.) “Is Beanie Boy coming today?”

Betty shakes her head at Toni’s ridiculous nickname for Jughead. She shrugs. “I assume so,” she hisses back. 

Pepper calls for a new stretch and they turn away from each other, leaving Betty with her thoughts.

Everything feels faster this year. Betty can’t tell if it’s because she’s a sophomore now, making each high school ritual feel a little less significant. Or if it’s just the fact that their first game falls on the second day of the school year. Anyway, she certainly _hopes_ Jughead is coming. She has something important to ask him later.

“Betty, love!” Pepper calls and Betty snaps to attention.

“Yeah, Pep?” Betty says, face flushed. _Oops._

“Were you spacing, dear?”

“Sorry,” she says quickly. 

“There’s no ‘sorry’ in field hockey!” Pepper says. “Only focus.”

After waiting the appropriate amount of time—until Pepper has zeroed in on Trula instead—Betty and Toni exchange another teasing look.

.

.

.

When they’ve finished stretching, Betty and Toni hang back in the throng walking toward the sidelines.

“Look, I love Pep to bits, but I don’t know what she’s saying half the time lately,” Betty confesses, laughing.

“They say power changes people,” Toni says in a dramatic tone and Betty giggles.

They meet Ethel and Midge at the bench, both already fastening on shin guards. 

“Ready for this?” Ethel asks, and Betty gulps, nodding. 

“I think?” she says. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty nervous.” 

Penny hadn’t announced the final line-up yet, but she’d been hinting that Betty will likely start the game. Betty is the only sophomore who hadn’t started at all the season before; Penny started Midge once during one of the final games of the season, while Ethel and Toni had been in the regular starting line-up for every game. Betty knows she’s grown a lot since last fall, but she’s still apprehensive, frightened she somehow won’t measure up once back on the field for an actual game.

“On a completely different note that may provide a slight distraction,” Midge says, pointing between Toni and Betty. “Did either of you catch what the AP U.S. History homework is?” 

“Yes,” Betty says. “It’s the first two chapters of that huge textbook.” She rolls her eyes, already dreading that reading.

“AKA two chapters of good ol fashioned, sanitized American history,” Toni says, Betty rolling her eyes in agreement beside her. She’d started skimming the textbook headings earlier that day and Toni is, sadly, not wrong.

“Ugh,” Midge says. “I really took a gamble not hauling that heavy thing home before talking to you guys.”

“RIP Midge,” Toni jokes. “No, but forreal, my friend Fangs is like, _amazing_ at tech stuff. I bet he can help you figure out how to download the textbook online.”

Midge’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Toni says, shrugging. “I’ll give you his number after the game.”

“Wait,” Ethel says. “While we’re on the topic of homework, did you guys _see_ how many essays we have due just this month alone in AP Lang?” 

(This is the one class all four of the sophomore field hockey players are taking this year. When they chose seats near each other yesterday, Toni quipped, “And to think, some teams bond with binge drinking and embarrassing half-naked pranks.”)

“Yeah,” Betty says, groaning. “Jughead and I talked briefly about AP Lang at lunch. He was _way_ too excited about the essay due next week.”

Midge and Ethel laugh. “Typical Jughead,” Ethel says.

“Right?” Betty says.

Toni looks between all of them curiously. “Now that I have class with your mysterious best friend, will I learn more about him?”

Betty snorts. “Doubtful. Jughead likes it that way. The mystery, I mean.”

The mention of Jughead is just another reminder that it’s the second day of school and somehow she still hasn’t had a chance to _really_ catch up with her best friend. (Either of them, really.) The traditional last night of summer dinner had been filled with too many friends and talk of football to discuss anything real, and she has so much to tell Jughead and Archie about her summer. 

“Cooper!” Penny calls. Betty shoots her friends one last nervous look before jogging over to the coach, standing on the edge of the field with her clipboard.

“Yeah, Coach?”

“I’m putting you in as the starting forward on the right-hand side. You ready for that?”

Betty nods, gulping. “Yes, definitely.”

Penny smiles. “Good. You’ve improved a lot, and I’ve seen how hard you worked during preseason.”

Betty grins; it seems her ritualistic running habits during the off-season had paid off as she’d hoped. “Thanks so much, Coach,” she says.

“Now, remember, we want to get that ball to Toni. She’s our best chance at scoring,” Penny says.

Betty fondly remembers the last scrimmage of preseason, when she’d assisted on Toni’s third goal of the game. “You got it.”

“Send Midge over here?” Penny says.

Betty nods, walking back over to Toni, Ethel, and Midge. “I’m starting,” she says to her friends’ expectant faces. “Midge, you’re up.”

Midge stands up quickly, an excited look on her face. “Wish me luck.”

.

.

.

Betty _loves_ the sound of an entire field hockey team’s sticks rattling together, a symphony of teenage girl energy. 

“We are Bulldogs, we are sisters!” yells Pepper. 

Betty shut her eyes for a moment as, alongside her teammates, she repeats the call: “We are Bulldogs, we are sisters!”

“Let’s go, girls!” Penny calls, clapping her hands together.

This is the part when Betty would usually head to the sidelines with the other younger girls, watching and waiting for her turn to sub in for someone who needs a rest. A little disoriented, Betty ends up one of the last starters to jog across the field into place.

Betty nods at Melody Valentine as she passes, the new freshman forward who Betty considers the Toni of this year’s newbies. Melody gives her a nervous nod back in solidarity. (They’d talked enough during preseason for Melody to know that starting a game is new for Betty too.) 

Penny has Toni in her usual place at center forward, though set back a bit from Betty and Melody. Betty glances around the field, orienting herself: Midge, Pepper, and Josie are all positioned as half-backs behind Toni. Behind them stands their formidable defensive line: Ethel, Tina, one of the fierce new freshman girls, Alexandra Cabot, and, of course, Trula in the goal. 

Betty sighs, rolling out her wrists and trying to clear her mind.

“Focus, Cooper,” Toni says behind her, lisping around her mouthguard, and Betty shoots her as much of a smile as one can manage in a state-mandated protective eye mask. 

Betty turns around again to face the Seaside High team, looking taller and more confident in their powder blue uniforms than she remembers from last year. The nearest Seaside player glares at Betty, triggering an irrational thought that this girl can somehow see that she’s a fraud, that it’s her first time _starting_ a game since joining the Riverdale High field hockey team a year earlier, that her stomach is in knots.

Mostly as a distraction, Betty lifts her hand above her eyes, shielding the sun as she searches the metal bleachers. She doesn’t know why she’s even bothering; there’s never anyone in the stands at Riverdale High field hockey games. 

Except for Jughead Jones.

(Or, as Toni would say, _Beanie Boy_.)

Sure enough, there he is, crown beanie and large headphones fixed on his head. Jughead sees Betty looking his way and offers a friendly wave, and she waves back with her stick hand. She returns her eyes to the field—more specifically, to the gargantuan Seaside girl facing her—and swallows down the tentative hopes she’d had that her parents might show up.

One of the two refs blows her whistle almost directly behind Betty as she trots up the field in her navy-blue skirt. “Seaside ready?” A pause for confirmation. “Riverdale ready?”

The whistle blows a second time, and the Seaside center forward moves the spotless white ball, her long legs propelling her right outside the Riverdale circle far too quickly. 

Thankfully, before the Seaside forward can even attempt to shoot, Ethel is there, knocking the ball back to Josie, who takes it and scrambles up the field before any of the Seaside offenders can catch up. Betty pumps her arms as she runs up the field to get ahead of her teammates in passing position. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Betty sees that Josie is now sprinting across the 50-yard line. She passes to Toni just in time to avoid a Seaside defender. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Betty breathes, eliciting a glare from the nearest Seaside player. 

_Bitch_ , Betty thinks bitterly as she continues running toward the Seaside goal, an extremely tall Seaside full-back on her heels. Her adrenaline is pumping and she hasn’t even touched the ball yet.

She pauses at the top of the circle to see that Toni, Melody, and Josie are attempting to maintain possession of the ball right past the 50-yard line. 

“Betty!” Toni calls through her mouthguard and Betty weaves, trying to escape the clutches of the Seaside defender marking her. 

Betty manages to shove forward and Toni slaps the ball to Betty, who receives it in the flat of her stick so seamlessly, she has to remember not to stop and just revel in it. She pivots, heading into the circle. Everything is high-stakes now; this close to the goal, any penalty will trigger a corner. She can see Melody across the circle out of the corner of her eye. Toni, Josie, and Pepper are sprinting to meet her; she’s almost there. 

But just as Josie appears in perfect position on the goal post, one of the larger Seaside High half-backs whisks the ball away from Betty, so quickly and so skillfully she hardly realizes it’s gone until the player is dribbling away, ten yards down the field.

“It’s okay, Cooper!” Toni says quickly as they both sprint back toward the 50-yard line to support the defenders. Betty nods, and they disperse to opposite ends of the field. 

Half-time comes before she knows it, and as Betty jogs in with the other players, she realizes that for the first time in her field hockey career, Penny didn’t sub her out. 

They’re exhilarated, having finished the half without either team scoring. This has become the equivalent of a win for their scrappy, underdog team. The Seaside coach is almost certainly giving the other team the verbal lashing they’ll need to score their winning goal. But for now, the Riverdale High field hockey team is not _technically_ losing yet, and things are grand. 

“Amazing job, Cooper,” Coach says, handing Betty a water bottle. Betty grins, removing her mouthguard and lifting up her eye mask to squirt water into her mouth gratefully.

“You’re killing it, Betty!” Midge agrees, coming up to squeeze her shoulders excitedly. (Though Midge had started the game as a half-back, she’d been pulled out about ten minutes in.)

“Thanks, Midge,” Betty says, leaning back into her friend’s touch.

“Alright, girls, huddle up!” Penny calls, clipboard in hand.

* * *

The referee’s whistle blows, signaling the Riverdale High field hockey team’s first loss of the season at 1-0. Jughead claps along with the other dozen or so fans sprinkled across the metal bleachers as the girls jog it in.

Despite the shut-out loss, Betty had seen more playing time today than any game last season by far. Jughead finds himself _far_ more interested in the sport when he can watch Betty sprint up and down the field in that blue-and-gold pleated skirt for more than two-thirds of the game. She seems quicker and more confident this year, like the stick has become more of an appendage she can control.

Jughead waits in his usual spot along the chain link fence as the players finish their post-game huddle and begin packing up. He finds himself bouncing on the balls of his feet, suddenly nervous. Finally, he spots Betty walking from the field with a sports bag slung across her shoulder, flanked by Ethel and Toni.

“Hey, Jughead,” Ethel says sweetly as she passes. 

“See you later, Cooper!” Toni calls to Betty, shooting them both a sly grin before jogging across the lot to catch a ride with Josie. 

“You don’t need a ride, Betty?” Josie checks loudly, standing next to her car. 

“I’m good, thanks!” Betty calls back, blowing a kiss to her teammates. 

Amid the sound of car doors slamming and engines starting, Betty turns to Jughead. The lot is almost empty, the Seaside High bus already long departed. “Hey,” she says brightly, eyes scanning his face. “Pop’s on me?”

Surprised, Jughead’s grin widens. _He’s_ usually the one who invites _her,_ and this new turn of events makes him a little hopeful. 

He hasn’t seen her all summer, as she’d been away for an internship in the city, staying with her older brother Charles. She came back just in time to take the short trip with her parents to drop Polly off for her freshman year at a state school in upstate New York. Then, field hockey preseason kidnapped her for ten grueling days. Yesterday, he’d been happy to see they shared a few classes together as usual, but they still haven’t found time to _really_ catch up yet.

As they settle into Jughead’s favorite corner booth, he can’t help but think that Betty carries herself differently than she did before. Their brisk trek from Svenson to Pop’s alone proves that Betty developed a new habit of walking with a purpose during her summer in New York. (Walking side by side, Jughead also can’t pretend he _didn’t_ notice the way Betty herself has “developed” in those two months since he’s seen her.)

Jughead looks down into the mug of coffee Pop had dropped off along with a couple of menus. Betty opens one of them, undoubtedly lingering on the glossy new sidebar Pop added to the inside cover in July. (“Some marketing consultant my daughter wanted me to hire,” Pop explained to Jughead with an eye-roll the first time Jug spotted it.)

When Jughead looks up again, Betty is watching him. The menus are stacked and closed neatly on the table, Betty’s hands folded over the pile. She sits up straighter in the booth, those familiar green eyes patiently trained on him.

“What’s on your mind, Betty Cooper?” Jughead asks. “I know that face.”

Betty caves, her face betraying a smile. “Okay, you’re right.” She sighs, pushing the menus aside and declaring, “I feel a gaping hole both in my life and on my college resume. And as a result, I am embarking on a new endeavor this fall.”

Jughead’s eyebrows raise. “Okay,” he says. “Tell me more.”

“I want to restart the _Blue and Gold_ , the old school newspaper Charles used to work on,” she explains. “It’s been defunct for a few years now, but Charles helped me contact Principal Weatherbee at the end of the summer, and he said that if there are at least three club members, I can apply for funding. I talked to Toni Topaz during preseason and she’s already agreed to be the staff photographer and I really think that between the two of us—if you’re down—we could do the rest. So I guess what I’m asking is, do you-”

“Yes,” Jughead says, immediately cutting her off.

Betty looks surprised. “Don’t you want to hear what your title would be?”

“I mean, you can tell me if you want,” Jughead says, laughing as he stirs his coffee. “But it won’t make a difference. I want to help you, and this sounds like it could be mutually beneficial.”

“Yes, I thought so too,” Betty says, pausing as Pop comes by to take their orders. 

“How did the game go?” Pop asks, gesturing to Betty’s field hockey uniform.

Betty frowns. “We lost, sadly. But it was a good game! We put up a good fight, and we only lost by one goal.” 

“And Betty was one of the starting forwards,” Jughead brags, laughing when Betty blushes and slaps at his hand.

“Way to go, Betty!” Pop says. “Your usuals, I assume?”

They’ve barely managed to say “yes” when another customer calls loudly out to Pop, who sighs. “I’ll be back with your food soon, kids.”

“So, that’s settled,” Jughead says. “We’re restarting the school newspaper. We can discuss your multi-step plan later. But for now, onto the real stuff: how was the internship?”

Betty grins wide, leaning back in her seat and gazing longingly out the window for a minute before turning to face Jughead again. “Where do I even begin?” she says. “It was amazing. Just...it totally validated how much _world_ there is for us to see and experience outside Riverdale!”

Jughead can’t help but gain a tiny morsel of hope from the word “us,” a gentle reminder of their plan to skip this town _together_. It feels like a sigh of relief. 

“So, what did they have you doing? Was it all coffee runs and _Devil Wears Prada_ sass?”

Betty giggles. “There were _definitely_ some coffee runs but it wasn’t all that! Actually, one thing I’ve been dying to tell you about-”

Jughead leans forward, already excited by the passion in Betty’s voice. Once Betty left for the summer, Jughead’s social life had predictably dried up. Sure, he’d crashed with Archie on the hotter nights, gratefully mooching off the Andrews’ central air. And he’d managed to talk on the phone with Jellybean a couple times a week, which is more than they could manage during the school year. He’d even landed a seasonal job working concessions at the drive-in theater. But none of it had compared to hanging out with Betty Cooper. He’d missed this.

But because apparently this is just how Jughead’s life works, _this_ is the exact moment Reggie Mantle chooses to saunter up to their booth, leering at Betty in a way that makes Jughead inadvertently clench his fists under the table.

“Cooper,” Reggie calls, whistling. “You’re looking _good_. That summer away did you well.”

Betty shoots him a disgusted look. “Uh...hello to you too, Reggie.” 

She sounds genuinely confused and Jughead is stuck between being a little annoyed that Betty can be this naive and mostly just angry that Betty is being put in this position. (If he’s being completely honest with himself, another, more-than-tiny part of him is freaked out that Betty will somehow fall for the charm of Reggie Mantle.)

Jughead rolls his eyes as Reggie angles his body away from him and focuses on Betty. “So, what do you say we get together one night this week and catch up on what I’ve been missing?” Reggie grins appreciatively at Betty’s chest before returning his attention to her face, and Jughead’s cheeks flame red. He’s an embarrassing mess of jealousy, anger, and fear.

“Um, no thank you,” Betty says harshly. “And to be clear, so we don’t have to talk about this again: I am not interested in you romantically.”

Reggie’s genuinely-shocked face is priceless. Jughead wishes he hadn’t accidentally smashed the camera on his phone over the summer so he could capture it. “Uh…okay,” Reggie says, clearly not used to rejection. “See you guys later.”

Jughead watches Betty carefully as Reggie slinks away. “That was awkward,” he tries.

Betty turns back to him, an incredulous look on her face. She leans in closer. “Can you seriously believe he thought I’d be attracted to someone that...how do I say this diplomatically…?”

Jughead shrugs, afraid to answer.

“Dense? Unintelligent? Often misogynistic? How can anyone find that attractive?” Betty’s voice is filled with the kind of vindictive disbelief that haunts his daydreams.

He can’t help but laugh. “That would about cover it,” he says, a feeling of warm relief rushing through him. 

“And it’s so weird,” Betty continues, her face still screwed up in confusion. “I mean, I’ve known Reggie forever. Why would he suddenly ask me out now?” 

Jughead has _never_ been excited to hear this song before. But when “Fireflies” by Owl City blares through the speakers, Jughead seizes the miraculous opportunity to change the subject to something safer. “God, when will the _scourge_ that is this summer jam end?” he laments, pointing his finger toward the speaker. 

(How else to answer her question honestly? How can he tell her that even though he’s been in love with her probably his entire life, just one look at her makes it clear that over the summer Betty Cooper had _bloomed_? How can he tell her that the reason Reggie Mantle asked her out is the same reason that Jughead wants to—because she’s beautiful and terrifyingly brilliant and too good for this town—but that he’s too scared to do so for fear of losing her friendship?)

Thankfully, Betty takes the bait, listening for the Owl City song. “Ya know, I really liked it at first, but you’re right...they’ve played it to death. They killed it,” she says, shaking her head. 

“It’s not even the best song on the album,” Jughead contends.

Betty raises her eyebrows. “You listened to the whole album?”

Jughead sighs, nodding. “When you told me to give ‘The Saltwater Room’ a chance, I did. And you were right. That song, at least, is tolerable.”

Betty pumps her fist. “Victory is mine!”

Jughead laughs. “Whatever, Betts. I know that _you_ know that _I_ have the superior taste in music. So I’ll let you have this one.”

Betty sticks her tongue out at him just as Pop returns with their food. “Oh, you two,” Pop says, dropping their burgers and milkshakes down. “The more things change, the more they stay the same, huh?”

They laugh. “Thanks, Pop!” 

“As much as I love New York,” Betty says, taking her first bite. “There’s nothing like a Pop’s burger after a long day.”

“It’s our religion,” Jughead says through a mouthful of fries. 

Betty laughs. “Amen.”

“Now,” Jughead says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “What were we talking about before we were rudely interrupted by an untamed teenage male?” 

Betty giggles. “Oh, right! My internship…okay, so you’ll never guess who I got to meet at a reception the magazine was throwing while I was there.”

Jughead considers, running through Betty’s various journalistic and literary heroes in his head. “Hmm…Christiane Amanpour? Or, ooh, that feminist journalist you like, Jessica Valenti?”

Betty giggles. “You’re shooting too low.”

Realization dawns. “ _No way._ ”

Betty nods enthusiastically, ponytail bobbing as her eyes light up. “All she did was say ‘hello’ and thank me for my work on the event after my boss introduced me, but it was _more_ than enough. I can die happy now.”

“Betty, you _met_ Toni Morrison?” 

Jughead is stuck between disbelief and unbelievable joy for his friend. Betty read _Beloved_ before they ever had it assigned in any English class, then steadily devoured _The Bluest Eye_. And then _Sula_. Every time Betty finished one, she’d immediately push the worn paperback into Jughead’s hands, excitedly insisting he read it next so she’d have someone to talk to about the characters. 

Betty giggles, unable to contain the excited smile that only comes out on the rare occasions that something truly spectacular has happened to her. “Let me tell you about the speech she gave at the event, though.”

Jughead takes a generous bite of his burger, sitting back in the booth and grinning as Betty launches into the story, face animated and hands waving wildly. _This_ is what he missed all summer.

.

.

.

_“Hey, where’s Archie?”_

Jughead doesn’t even think to ask the question until he’s already home, trying to fall asleep on Jellybean’s old twin bed in the trailer. But he can picture how he would’ve said it, because it’s the kind of question Betty and Jughead have been asking each other about Archie Andrews since they were five years old. 

He realizes, with a weird pang, that if Reggie Mantle was free to hit on Betty at Pop’s right after the field hockey game, Archie must’ve been released from any football duties that afternoon too. It still makes him a little angry that Archie has never seen Betty play a single game of field hockey, even if it seems that Betty has just moved to a stage of quiet acceptance over that particular matter.

Still, it’s weird, how he’s become used to Archie’s absence. Sure, they’d seen him for their usual last-night-of-summer meal, but Betty coming back from a two-month sojourn in the big city would’ve once warranted a major Three Musketeers catch-up session. Tonight, Betty and Jughead rarely discussed Archie.

Jughead falls asleep without coming to much of a conclusion on the topic. Just the memory of Betty laughing across the table from him and something that feels like a shrug. 

.

.

.

Betty had the forethought to bring Lysol wipes, because of course she did.

“Tell your brother he left this place super dusty,” Jughead complains, clapping his hands together and watching the little white dust particles disperse in the air.

Betty laughs, clapping out an old rug they found under one of the two desks in the once-abandoned newspaper office. “Technically, I think the newspaper became defunct about two years _after_ Charles graduated, but I’ll have him pass along the message.”

It’s incredible what general lack of funding coupled with a nearly decade-long hiatus from regular newspaper printing will do to such an office. They start by wiping down the desks, the chairs, the rows of filing cabinets and shelves that line the narrow room.

There’s a fine layer of dust and age coating _everything_. Jughead knocks down a couple cobwebs while Betty sweeps up a bunch of dead bugs from the windowsill and changes the lightbulb on the old lamp sitting on one of the desks. 

The most exciting moment comes when they open one of the cabinets to find three old typewriters stashed away with a couple reams of paper. Their eyes light up with mutual surprise, Betty letting out a squeal. 

“Little Betty and Jughead would be so excited right now,” Jughead quips.

Betty reaches for another wipe and dusts off the first typewriter she’d retrieved: a deep, cornflower blue. “Screw that,” she says, smiling at Jughead. “ _Present-day_ Betty is excited about this right now!”

Jughead laughs, reaching for the dark gray typewriter sitting further back in the old wood cabinet. “Yeah,” he says, grinning down at the little black keys, longing for his fingers to press them. “Actually, present-day Jughead is pretty excited about this too.”

A couple minutes later their stomachs start rumbling and, remembering this is technically their _lunch_ hour, Betty and Jughead haul themselves up. Without even realizing it, they’d settled on the floor exploring the books and memorabilia scattered in the files left behind by _Blue and Gold_ staffs of the past.

They set the typewriters down and sit opposite each other at the two desks, feeling pretty proud of the level of cleanliness they’ve already brought to the small office. Betty pulls a salad out of her backpack and looks around the room in excitement. “I have so many plans for us,” she says. “We can run this newspaper for _three_ years, Jug. That reminds me, we should definitely bring in a coffee maker. I bet my parents have an old one I can borrow.”

Jughead tips his sandwich in her direction. “A woman after my own heart,” he jokes.

“I think if we play our cards right and plan well, we can publish our first issue by the end of October,” Betty says, spearing a piece of lettuce like it’s a deadline she’s about to conquer.

“Wow,” Jughead says, in endless awe that Betty is, as usual, already four steps ahead. “So, what are you thinking for this first issue?”

Betty shrugs. “I have a couple pitch ideas floating around, but I hope you do too.”

Jughead grins. “A couple,” he admits.

“I do think that it’s pretty obvious we’ll need a standard sports section,” she says. “And Principal Weatherbee requested we publish a school activities calendar. I think we can put out a call for columnists in this first issue and see what comes back…”

And she’s off, talking between bites of an Alice-approved meal. Jughead can’t help but feel a swelling of pride and love for Betty as he takes in her ideas, so obviously shaped by the summer she’d spent watching actual professional journalists put a magazine together. 

They’re interrupted by a knock at the door a few minutes later. The impeccably-styled heads of Cheryl and Veronica peek around the doorframe. “Hey, friends!” Veronica chirps, cautiously walking into the little office.

“Oh, hey!” Betty says, looking up from her meal with a neutral expression. “You found it.”

Cheryl waves her hand through the air in obvious distaste of all the dust. Veronica shoots her a pointed look before turning back to Betty. (It is _very_ obvious to Jughead, who sinks further into his chair, that they are here for Betty and not him.) 

Once field hockey season ended last year, Betty had been less busy and more inclined to send out group texts inviting their old friends to meet at Pop’s. It allowed Betty to see their friends more often without succumbing to the alcohol-soaked parties she had no desire to attend. Jughead always accompanied Betty, because she knew to only invite him places where there would be food. But still—any social tie Jughead once had to Kevin, Veronica, and Cheryl by way of Archie and Betty feels even more forced now. Like he’s associated with them only on a technicality. 

“Bettykins, we were wondering if you wanted to come over tonight!” Veronica says. Betty smiles, starting to open her mouth to reply, until Cheryl interrupts.

“To be clear,” Cheryl says, a hand on her hips. “ _We_ sophomore River Vixens are hosting the most _delightful_ kickback at Thistlehouse for the sophomore and freshman football crowd.” 

Veronica nods nervously beside Cheryl, perhaps understanding their audience a little more than Cheryl does. As if she can read his mind, Cheryl adds, “There will be _lots_ of booze and _lots_ of eligible men.” Jughead can’t help but snort.

“Tonight?” Betty clarifies. “As in, _Wednesday_ night?”

“Of course,” Cheryl says, running her hand along the one bookshelf they hadn’t yet gotten to with the Lysol wipes. “It’s dusty in here,” she says, staring pointedly at Jughead.

“Um, I’ll let you guys know, okay?” Betty says, glad that Veronica takes the hint, linking an arm through Cheryl’s and backing them out of the room.

“Text us, babe!” Veronica calls over her shoulder in farewell.

“Phew,” Betty says when they finally leave, sticking her fork back into her salad. “I love them, but I just can’t with that River Vixen stuff right now.”

Jughead laughs. “No one gets it more than me,” he says and Betty crunches a piece of lettuce loudly before saying, “ _Duh_.” 

It makes them both burst into laughter again. When they’ve quieted down and Betty has resumed eating, Jughead tentatively asks, “But hey, have you talked to Archie lately?”

She shrugs. “Not really.” She pauses for a minute. “We should try to plan a Three Musketeers hang soon.”

“Yeah,” Jughead says, feigning as much enthusiasm as he can muster. “We should.”

“I’ll send him a text,” she says, pulling out her phone—over the summer, she’d gotten one of those phones that slides open into a full keyboard. The night before, he’d spent five minutes marveling over it while they split a piece of pie, trying to imagine a texting future beyond the T9 life he was, regretfully, still living.

Jughead rustles his bag of chips. “So, you gonna go to that thing Cheryl and Veronica invited you to?” He’s not even sure why he said it. A part of him knows he’ll be bitter if she says “yes” and that it wouldn’t be fair.

Betty shakes her head, scoffing. “Are you serious? No way. Getting dinner at Pop’s or studying at Veronica’s is one thing, but a _party_ on a weeknight? That sounds like such a waste of my time.” She starts rattling off duties on her fingers. “Between field hockey practice, field hockey games, working on the newspaper with you...not to mention pasta dinners...I barely have time for all my homework as it is! I mean, taking two AP classes already feels like _so_ much more work than the _one_ I took last year.”

Jughead laughs, feeling almost relieved to hear Betty babbling. It is, after all, a very natural state for her. “Got it,” he says. “I didn’t know if you were doing a ‘new year, new Betty’ kind of thing,” he explains weakly. 

Betty shoots him an incredulous look before snorting. “Please never use that phrase around me again,” she says.

“Done,” he says, looking down into his chips as Betty changes the subject to another article idea.

.

.

.

Fifteen minutes into Betty’s next home game, Jughead is on his feet. Betty started the game, and Riverdale had quickly taken possession of the ball. They’re playing Centerville High, the team that Jughead remembers Betty calling “evenly-matched” with Riverdale High the year before, and he can see why.

Melody is running up the field with the ball, crossing it to Toni before a Centerville defender can intercept. Betty had told Jughead all about “this amazingly talented and sweet freshman named Melody,” and he can see what she’s been raving about. Toni brings the ball into the circle, attempting to dodge defenders as Josie, a freshman named Valerie Brown, and Betty all position themselves around the circle to back up Toni. 

Jughead’s fists are clenched tightly, his eyes intensely following the gameplay. 

Before he even knows what’s happening, one of the refs is blowing their whistle. It seems one of the Centerville defenders had accidentally kicked the ball within the circle, triggering a penalty corner. He watches the Centerville offenders head back to the 50-yard line as their four defensive players run into the cage behind the goalie. He’s always found this part fascinating. The Riverdale High offensive players stand around the circle, sticks ready. 

As the whistle blows, Josie feeds Riverdale High’s corner hit into the circle. She stands next to the goal and yells something Jughead can’t quite make out before shooting the ball straight to Toni as the rest of the players run into the circle. Betty makes it to her usual spot on the right goalpost just in time to receive a hit from Valerie. 

Betty slams the ball at the perfect angle, and it slides past the Centerville goalie’s boot, her stick hand falling short of stopping the shot. 

The ref blows her whistle. “Goal, Riverdale High!”

The girls erupt into cheers, Toni and Midge immediately jumping on Betty and embracing her as she picks up the ball and they all start running back to their starting positions.

Jughead hears a metallic clanging sound and realizes it’s him, jumping up and down on the bleachers as he cheers for Betty, his hands starting to hurt as he claps and claps. 

* * *

It had been a surreal moment. In the end, the secret behind Betty’s first varsity goal was pure instinct. She barely registers what’s happened until Toni’s arms are around her. 

The rest of the game is a blur. High off Betty’s goal, Melody scores soon after. One of the Centerville High girls manages to score one goal right before the whistle blows for half-time, leading to a giddy, beautiful fifteen minutes when the Riverdale High field hockey team is in the lead at 2-1, and thinking they might actually win this thing. 

The natural order returns to the universe shortly into the second half. Centerville High doesn’t let up, and they manage to score the two more goals they need to overtake Riverdale just five minutes before the final whistle blows.

In the post-game huddle, Penny refuses to act negative, congratulating Betty and Melody on their first-ever varsity goals, and congratulating the entire team for keeping Centerville on their toes until the bitter end. 

“This game is something for us to build on,” Penny says, firmly and emotionally, before calling for a final cheer.

“Two amongst our ranks have scored their first varsity goals! As captain, I insist we go to Pop’s!” Pepper declares when the huddle breaks up. “Girls, get your street shoes on and meet us in the parking lot for rides!” 

“I’m buying you a milkshake, Cooper,” Toni says as she, Midge, and Ethel walk up the path to meet their friends in the parking lot.

“Wow, I feel so honored,” Betty says.

“Well, that was one _badass_ first goal!” Toni says, smiling when they all notice that Jughead is waiting for Betty in his usual spot near the chain-link fence.

“I have to agree,” he says, pushing off the fence. “That was amazing, Betty.”

“Thanks!” Betty says brightly, glad at least one of her old friends had been there to witness this milestone. “I know we usually go to Pop’s, but Pepper is insisting we go as a team to celebrate me and Melody’s first goals.”

Jughead tries to recover quickly, and her heart hurts a little at the clear disappointment on his face. “No worries, that’s great. Have fun!”

Toni, Ethel, and Midge, who had been hanging back, walk forward to link arms with Betty. She smiles. “I’ll see you later, Jug!” she says.

“Congrats, everyone!” Jughead says weakly, but her friends are already running ahead, looking for empty seats. 

Thankfully, Josie saved seats for Betty and Toni in her car. They climb in next to Melody, squealing in celebration, and Valerie queues up a loud song from the passenger seat.

Soon they’re all singing along, windows down to let the breeze in, and Betty feels on top of the world. While Betty had really liked Prudence the year before, the “Weird Sisters” hadn’t been _quite_ as keen on group bonding. 

.

.

.

When they arrive at Pop’s, the girls who rode in Pepper and Trula’s cars have already claimed three booths for the team. The diner is packed, and Betty tries not to spend too much time attempting to figure out which other sports teams are sitting in the sea of blue and gold. It doesn’t matter anyway; crammed into a booth with Melody, Toni, Midge, and Ethel, listening to Josie and Pepper tell hilarious stories about their freshman year, Betty is soon completely entranced in the team’s conversation. 

Once everyone has milkshakes in hand, Pepper proposes a toast to Betty and Melody. All the girls cheer, and for a single, embarrassing moment, the rest of the diner looks over at the three tables of field hockey players. 

“Sisters forever!” Pepper yells in defiance of the couple douchey football players who “boo” them.

“Try winning a game sometime!” someone yells, and Betty’s face darkens when she recognizes the voice as Chuck Clayton’s.

“Don’t listen to those assholes,” Josie says. “We’re fucking awesome.”

“That’s right, Josie!” Pepper says, face heated. “Should I go over there and give those football players a piece of my mind?”

“No, no, Pep…” Josie runs behind her, trying to rein in their ever-dutiful captain.

“Wow,” Toni says. “Never a dull moment in Riverdale.”

Midge looks nervously over in the direction of the football players, who are now openly laughing at a ranting Pepper. “Maybe I should go mediate.” 

“I don’t know if anyone can save Pepper from herself when she’s this far gone,” Melody says, and they all laugh in agreement.

“Is Moose even here?” Betty asks, looking around for Midge’s boyfriend but not seeing him anywhere.

Midge shrugs. “I tried.”

Everyone laughs, and Toni changes the subject to their away game later in the week.

“You think you can go for your second goal, Mel?” Toni says.

“Oh, I know I can! All we have to do…” Melody trails off when they all notice that, to Betty’s surprise, Cheryl, Veronica, and Archie have sidled up to their table.

“Bettykins!” Veronica says in a sugary-sweet voice. Betty notices that Midge and Ethel become nervous and tight-lipped. They’d never quite gotten along with Veronica back in middle school.

“Hey, guys,” Betty says. “Do you know my teammates? Toni, Melody, these are my friends Archie, Veronica, and Cheryl. You already know Midge and Ethel.”

Everyone politely nods at each other in acknowledgment, but Betty knows that no amount of awkward introduction will bridge the gap between these two groups. 

“What are you all celebrating?” Archie asks. “We heard you cheering before.”

“Betty and Melody here both scored their first-ever varsity goals,” Toni says sharply and Betty tries not to blush. She’s vented to Toni about her old friends a few times now, and Betty can hear the firmness in Toni’s tone, the _don’t hurt my friend, or we’re gonna have a problem_ code by which Toni, Fangs, and Sweet Pea have always lived their lives. 

“Betty scored a goal?” Archie says. Cheryl and Veronica’s faces are genuinely shocked as well, as if none of them had ever considered the possibility until this moment.

“And to many more!” Midge says, lifting her milkshake glass and clinking. From the other table, Trula, Valerie, Alexandra, and Tina lift their glasses and cheer in their direction.

“Uh…” Veronica says, clearly attempting to be kind. From the looks on Cheryl and Archie’s faces, Betty can tell this little booth visit was Veronica’s idea. “Did you guys win then?”

They all shake their heads and Ethel pipes up, “We lost 3-2, but we were in the lead for the majority of the game for the first time...since I can remember.”

“Wow,” Archie says, feigning enthusiasm. “Congrats.” The tone in Archie’s voice feels a bit like a slap in the face, but Betty tries to ignore the emotional sting. 

“Well, we just wanted to say ‘hi’ to our dear friend Betty and congratulate you all,” Cheryl says in an icy tone, linking her arm firmly through Veronica’s. “But we must get back to the other Vixens now.” 

She shoots her dagger-eyes at the table one last time before leading the trio away, Veronica and Archie waving feebly as they follow Cheryl back to the side of the diner usually dominated by the football crowd.

“Are those really your friends, Betty?” Melody asks incredulously.

Betty shrugs. “They’re my oldest friends,” she says, shrugging. “But me and Jughead don’t hang out with them as often these days.”

“Can’t see why,” Ethel says under her breath. 

“Well, at any rate, your friend Cheryl could _get it_ ,” Toni says, and everyone laughs. (During the first pasta dinner of the season, Toni had come out as bisexual to a round of cheering and acceptance from the table.)

Betty laughs. “Oh, wow. Noted.”

Toni slings a friendly arm around Betty’s shoulder. “Anyway, before the Vixen crew interrupted us, Melody was telling us her strategy for beating Baxter High.”

.

.

.

When Betty’s friends leave an hour later, she hangs back. “Gotta wait for take-out for my parents,” she fibs, pointing toward the counter. 

Once they’re gone, Betty slides into the booth where Jughead has been sitting and writing for almost as long as she’s been here. 

“Betty!” Jughead says, surprised. “I didn’t think you saw me come in. Sorry for kind of...following you guys here.”

Betty laughs. “I don’t think we have a monopoly on Pop’s, Jug.”

He nods, his ears pink, as he peers behind her. “Where is everyone?”

“Oh, they all left,” Betty explains quickly. “Do you...mind if I sit here awhile?”

“Of course not,” Jughead says, quickly moving aside a couple of his books to make room on the table. 

Betty smiles gratefully, pulling folders and notebooks out of her backpack. Pop comes by to wordlessly bring Betty a strawberry milkshake and fill Jughead’s coffee mug. 

“You’re my favorite person in the world, Pop,” Betty gushes and Pop laughs. 

“Well, as your favorite person, I implore you to study,” Pop says before backing away.

“Why does our town not already have a literal statue to Pop?” Jughead asks, taking a grateful sip of his freshened coffee.

“I think we just found our first editorial.” Betty fishes around in her bag for a highlighter before settling in with their massive AP U.S. History textbook. 

Jughead doesn’t ask her why she isn’t going home. She would tell him if he asked, but she doesn’t have the energy to start that particular conversation herself. Lately, Alice and Hal’s fighting has reached a new level. Staying out is a lot easier than coming home just to serve as her parents’ human shield. 

She can feel her shoulders relax; the background noise of diner conversation and Jughead’s typing makes it much easier to study than the atmosphere inside the house with the red door on Elm Street these days.

.

.

.

“Oh, thank God,” Veronica says when she drops her tray on their lunch table to find Betty and Jughead comparing assignments. “That DBQ kicked my ass last night!”

Jughead laughs. “I thought you loved the Revolutionary War, Veronica.”

“Ugh, no,” Veronica says. “I just said _some_ of the fashion was cool.”

“Right,” Betty says, raising her eyebrows and laughing. “Well, we just started, so we can wait for you to get yours out.” Veronica smiles appreciatively and pulls a designer folder out of the monogrammed briefcase she—seriously, somehow—carries around the Riverdale High hallways. 

“God, I _hate_ this teacher,” Cheryl says as she joins them. Indeed, Cheryl and Veronica are taking AP U.S. History alongside Betty and Jughead. It’s one of the only topics that has allowed the four of them to carry a conversation so far this year, even if in the class itself Betty and Jughead sit closer to Midge and Toni than Cheryl and Veronica.

Kevin, Reggie, and Archie show up to the lunch table a few minutes later, quickly switching the conversation to some party taking place in the woods that weekend. Betty sighs, watching as Jughead goes mostly silent.

It’s odd; they treat Jughead as a lost cause, but not Betty. Cheryl and Veronica still try to include Betty in things: gossiping about people she doesn’t know even though she barely feigns interest; gushing about parties as if any day now she’ll suddenly say “yes” instead of her usual, immediate “thanks, but no thanks.”

 _If it somehow makes them feel better_ , Betty thinks with a shrug, _then so be it._

.

.

.

Betty has her first panic attack on a Friday.

She’s at Svenson, standing next to the bench on the field with most of her friends after practice. Technically, it’s ten minutes after Penny dismissed the girls for the weekend, but Pepper had been telling a rollercoaster ride of a story about the time she went to New York City for New Years, and Toni, Josie, Melody, Valerie, Ethel, and Midge had all stuck around to hear it.

At some point, Pepper makes reference to a “history lesson” and it’s enough for Betty to get pulled away from her friends, all their laughter and chatter becoming mere background noise. 

In her head, she sees every one of her homework assignments scrolling on an endless loop. She pictures herself holed up in her house all weekend, her parents screaming through the walls as she covers her ears and tries to concentrate on papers and readings.

She can hear Alice’s voice in her head. “How’s your AP homework coming along, Betty?” Hal hurling insults at her mother in the threatening tone that makes Betty want to hide under the covers. The name-calling and accusations have started trickling over into their family breakfast and dinner conversations. The house on Elm Street feels like one big game of Hot Lava, Betty stepping as carefully as she can to avoid starting any new arguments.

It’s Friday. She has _so much_ homework. So much to do for the paper. Where will she begin? She can’t stop picturing herself in her bedroom, sitting at her desk, the anger reverberating off the pink walls. When will it turn off? 

Suddenly, she feels trapped. 

Suddenly, it’s all too much. 

By the time Betty realizes she’s hyperventilating, she’s already kneeling in the grass, Pepper and Toni running to catch her.

“Betty!” she hears Ethel call in a worried voice, followed by a soothing “shhh” from Valerie.

“Betty, my dear,” Pepper’s voice is comforting, even in her strange accent that Betty still can’t quite put her finger on. “Listen to me, okay?”

Betty nods, trying to get a hold of her breath. It feels like she’s dying, like nothing will ever feel normal again. How did she get here?

“Okay, do it with me now, love. Breathe in.”

Betty nods, taking a deep, shuddering breath in. “Hold it, hold it.”

Betty breaths out before she realizes it. “Fuck,” she whispers, tears springing to her eyes. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. Girls, do it with us, okay?”

There’s a murmur of agreement. 

“Breathe in!” Betty hears her friends do it with her. “Hold, hold, hold, and breathe out, nice and slow. Yes. Okay, once more…”

Somehow, Betty’s friends sit there with her in the grass for the full five minutes it takes for Betty’s breathing to return to normal, for it to no longer feel like she’s under attack. Tears roll down her cheeks as she hears her friends take a final breath out with her. 

Curling her legs up into her chest, Betty feels numb, empty. Maybe a little embarrassed too, even if her friends have been nothing but kind and understanding.

“Babe, is there someone we can call?” Pepper asks gently.

Toni gives her a knowing look. “Do you want me to call Jughead?” she asks softly.

“Um,” Betty says, taking another deep breath in, another deep breath out. “Actually, that’d be great.”

* * *

Jughead’s perched on the side of their trailer reading their book for AP Lang when his phone rings. He picks up a call from an unknown number to hear Toni Topaz’s rushed voice: “Hey Beanie Boy, Cooper needs you.”

And before he knows it, he’s throwing the tarp off his dad’s motorcycle—which hadn’t been ridden in a couple months, to Jughead’s knowledge—and jumping on. His dad had given him enough lessons over the years, which, coupled with the adrenaline that’s been running through his body since he hung up the phone, carries him all the way to Svenson.

When he arrives, the parking lot is nearly deserted, just Toni, Betty, and Josie left standing against Josie’s open car. 

Jughead pulls to a stop. “Betty, are you okay?” He’s a little relieved to see no visible signs of blood or other injury. Toni hadn’t exactly been specific on the phone.

“Damn, Beanie Boy,” Toni says. “Nice ride.” Josie whistles beside her. 

“ _Wow_. Is this your boyfriend, Betty?” Josie asks, looking Jughead up and down in a way that makes him blush.

Betty laughs. “No, Jughead’s my best friend in the world. And as for the ride, Jug’s dad has let us ride this thing around parking lots since we were thirteen.”

“Betty has also been _fixing_ ‘this thing’ for my dad since we were thirteen,” Jughead brags.

“So, I assume you’re in safe hands now, Betty?” Josie says, raising her eyebrows and bumping her hip against Toni.

“Yep,” Betty says. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it, girl!” Josie says, embracing her in a tight hug.

“Call me anytime,” Toni adds, hugging her as well. “Get her home safe, Jones,” she says to Jughead.

Betty waves to her friends as they climb into Josie’s car and drive away. Then she turns to Jughead. “What happened to not wanting to drive the motorcycle until you had a license?”

Jughead blushes and shrugs. “I’m willing to bend the rules for a friend in need.”

Betty nods, her eyes dropping with something that looks like embarrassment.

Jughead watches her, not wanting to push too hard. “Are you okay?” he asks again, now that they’re alone.

She shrugs. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Betty nods. “I...I just can’t go home,” she says. 

“Where do you want to go? Pop’s?”

Betty shrugs. “I don’t know. Just...anywhere but home.”

Jughead remembers that his dad is working an overnight shift. And it seemed he’d actually left for work on time based on the evidence that awaited Jughead in the trailer that afternoon. (Locked front door, no beer cans, keys and truck gone.)

Jughead has never done this before, but for some reason, he offers: “Want to come over for awhile?” 

She looks surprised and he quickly adds, “We can do homework. You know, listen to tunes.”

“ _Tunes_?” Betty says teasingly. 

“Yeah,” Jughead says. “Come on, I was gonna order a pizza. You can help me finish it.”

Betty scoffs. “As _if_ Jughead Jones has ever needed help finishing a pizza.”

Jughead laughs, reaching for the second helmet FP keeps in the trunk and handing it to Betty. “True.” He pauses as Betty fastens it. “So, is that a yes?”

Betty takes a deep exhale out. “Yes.”

.

.

.

Betty has only been here once, when Betty, Archie, and Fred helped the Jones family move in two years earlier. He’s made a point not to invite his friends over since moving across the tracks, and they never questioned it. 

Until now.

“Welcome to Casa Jones.”

“Wow,” Betty says, smiling. “It looks _amazing_ without cardboard boxes everywhere.”

Jughead laughs. “So, if you’ll remember, this is the kitchen slash living room. There are two small bedrooms and a bathroom down the hall.” He points down the single hallway. “The only good thing about Mom and JB taking off is that I don’t have to sleep on the pullout couch anymore.”

Betty frowns, something in what Jughead said motivating her to confess, “I think I had a panic attack at the end of practice.”

Jughead’s eyes widen. “Is that why Toni called me?”

She nods. “I...it’s never happened to me before.”

“Do you want water?” Jughead asks quickly, internally kicking himself as he wonders if that was the wrong thing to say.

But Betty smiles appreciatively. “Water would be _great_ , actually, thanks.” She pauses, dropping her sports bag and backpack on the floor next to the couch. 

“We can hang out on the couch,” Jughead says, looking over his shoulder as he hurries to pour two glasses of water, praying there are still a couple ice cubes left in the tray. 

“I’m just gonna head to the bathroom,” Betty says. “Down the hall?”

“Yep!” 

As soon as Jughead hears the bathroom door close, he springs into action, running around the living room picking up pieces of garbage and a couple dirty cups. He brings their water to the coffee table and plays one of his mixes on the old stereo. A soft Dirty Projectors song floats through the trailer. 

Betty emerges from the bathroom looking refreshed a few minutes later. He looks up from where he’s trying to appear casual on the couch, reading their AP Lang book. “I put in the pizza order,” he says.

Betty sits next to him, pulling her backpack into her lap and unzipping it. “Thanks,” she says with a sigh of relief. “For picking me up, letting me come over. I know you...don’t really like having people over here.” She rummages through her backpack and retrieves the same book in Jughead’s hand.

“You’re different,” Jughead says, trying not to put too much meaning into it as he sticks his nose back into the book.

Betty smiles at him and finds her place in the school-issued paperback, curling up into a more comfortable position. Once she seems totally immersed in the reading, Jughead pauses for a second to watch her, seeming so at home in _his_ home—not the old one on Elm Street, but the trailer. 

He stares back at the words on the page before he gets too carried away in his fantasies.

.

.

.

Betty stands up when the pizza comes, asking if she can help. _Those typical Cooper manners._

“You can grab paper plates out of the cabinet on the left?” Jughead says, and Betty nods, moving with the purpose he knows that she craves.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, and then, out of nowhere, Betty says, “It’s the homework. I just...haven’t gotten into a good balance with my new workload yet. I started thinking about everything I have to do this weekend, how Alice is always on my ass to finish everything on time, and suddenly I just...the thought of going home, of being stuck in that house enveloped in all of that. I just...lost it. I...panicked, I guess.”

Jughead watches her carefully. “I’ve had a panic attack before too, you know,” he says after a beat and she looks up at him, surprised.

“Really?”

He nods. “When we realized my mom and JB left. I was processing and my dad, he just got so _angry_. He started throwing things, and I heard something shatter, and I pictured my mom and sister driving away from here, leaving me with _him_.” He sighs. “So, yeah, I lost it. I panicked too. It’s scary as shit.”

“Really scary,” Betty says. “I’m just glad my friends were there for me.”

“Me too,” Jughead says. “And I’m glad they called me.” 

Betty grins before taking another bite of pizza. “ _God_ ,” she says, leaning back into the couch. “None of this changes the mountain of homework I have, does it?”

Jughead laughs. “Would it help if we started our history homework together? You know, when we’re done with this pizza. I don’t think Mr. Honey would appreciate grease marks on our DBQs.”

Betty lets out the most genuine laugh he’s heard all night. “That would be really wonderful, Jug. Thank you.”

She helps him clean up dinner and they sit at the tiny kitchen table instead, working through the assignment and laughing at how unnecessarily huge their textbook is, especially considering how whitewashed the history contained inside is. (“All of this weight, and still not an adequate perspective on U.S. history through the lens of indigenous people,” Betty rants. “Fuck you, Texas,” Jughead solemnly agrees.)

They’re making so much progress that neither of them look at the clock again until it’s thirty minutes till Betty’s curfew. “Fuck.” She groans. “I’ll never make it home in time if I walk,” she says, biting her lip nervously.

“Guess we’re making this a habit, huh?” Jughead says.

Betty laughs, sighing. “Just drop me off one block from home if you want to live to see tomorrow.”

“Good call.”

Betty is, once again, unbothered by riding behind Jughead on the motorcycle, and he tries not to think too hard about where her arms are encircled tightly around her waist.

As promised, he comes to a stop a block away, in front of an empty, foreclosed house. 

Betty breathes out deeply as she pulls the helmet off and hands it back to him. “Wow, that’s kinda exhilarating,” she admits.

Jughead grins. “Betty Cooper, are you suggesting we make nighttime joy rides a normal thing?”

She laughs. “Absolutely not. At least, not until you’re old enough to get your motorcycle license.” She adds, her voice quieter, “We have to get out of this town, remember? So I can’t have you getting in trouble.”

Jughead thinks he’ll hear those words in his dreams that night. They keep running through his head, guiding him home as he prays that Sheriff Keller doesn’t spot him in the ten minutes before he returns to the trailer and puts the motorcycle back under its tarp until he’s of age. Probably.

* * *

A few days later, Betty stands back from their diagram of the first issue of the _Blue and Gold_ , a proud feeling in her chest. 

“We’re _almost_ there,” she says to Jug, one hand in a bag of potato chips and the other on his chin as he stands beside her staring at their draft layout. 

The _Blue and Gold_ office has quickly become their home away from home. Betty had hooked up one of her parents’ old coffee machines as promised. She’d also surprised Jughead by wheeling in an unused chalkboard she found in a supply closet after convincing one of the custodians to let her in one Monday during lunch. The board had quickly become covered in index cards and Post-Its representing article ideas and photo ops, color-coded by section and assigned writer. 

(Plus, Betty couldn’t help but prop up an old Polaroid of Betty, Archie, and Jughead, grinning like fools next to Sweetwater River on the 4th of July when they were seven years old. She knows Jughead spotted it once while reaching for an old yearbook on the bookshelf. She watched the ghost of a smile pass across his face before he turned away.)

Ironically, Betty has been feeling less stressed since her panic attack. She’s spent much of her spare time copiously researching anxiety disorders among teenagers, and is now determined to write about the mental health crisis at Riverdale High as the new centerpiece of their first issue. Jughead had immediately agreed to pick up another story about drug addiction to match a series of photos Toni had taken last summer on the Southside. 

“I think we just need _one_ more story for the feature section,” Betty says. “I just don’t know what it is.”

Jughead laughs. “Whatever you say, captain.”

“I am _not_ the captain,” Betty insists. “We’re co-editors-in-chief. In this together.”

Jughead leans back against one of the desks, pulling a disbelieving face. “You don’t even need me, Betty. You could run this whole damn thing on your own if you wanted.”

Betty shakes her head at him, looking back at their board with an even more determined look on her face. “I wouldn’t _want_ to though,” she counters.

“Knock, knock,” Toni quips from just outside the office door.

“Hey Toni!” Betty calls. “Come on in.” 

“You _finally_ have some photos for us, Topaz?” Jughead jokes and she points a threatening finger at him.

“As Betty Cooper’s other personal guardian, are you really gonna question my loyalty to this paper, Jones?” Toni fires back.

Betty laughs loudly between them. “You two are _both_ my favorites. And yes, Jughead, Toni brought like, our entire sports section with her.” Toni pulls a manila folder out of her backpack.

“Wow, what an important service. I surrender,” Jughead says, focusing on his lunch again as Betty and Toni pore over the photos, sorting the winners from the losers.

Betty bursts out laughing at the perfect shot Toni captured of a row of Riverdale High football fans angrily yelling in the stands. (Toni explains that the vitriol was directed at the ref. Betty had stopped pretending she cared about football this year, relieved when Toni agreed to attend the games for long enough to take photos and slap together some commentary for the captions. Betty has a feeling the sexy new River Vixen uniforms might have something to do with Toni’s enthusiasm.)

“I love that you still use film,” Betty says, flipping to a beautiful photo of Chuck Clayton in action. 

“Oh, yeah. I think I single-handedly keep the one photoshop left on the Southside in business,” Toni says. “However, one of these days I’m gonna find a beautiful girl to be my muse and then I might have to take my business elsewhere. I don’t think I could bear it if Howard saw that.”

Betty bursts out laughing. She flips to a photo of Moose concentrating hard before a play. “Midge would love this one,” she murmurs.

“Already printed a double of that one for her,” Toni says.

“Amazing,” Betty says. The warning bell rings, and she groans. “Well, thanks, Toni. Do you want to leave these here and I can bring whatever we don’t use to practice?”

“Sure thing, Cooper,” Toni says. “See you later. Later, Jones!”

“Bye, Topaz!” Jughead calls from where he’s depositing his trash into the bin. 

“Have you _seen_ these photos, Jug? Toni’s so talented.”

Jughead joins Betty at her desk, staring down at the photo Toni had printed for Midge. “Oh, _wow._ This will go great with the profile you wrote on Moose.”

Betty’s chest again fills with pride. Despite the odds, everything's coming together.

.

.

.

The Klump family hosts a pasta dinner on the eve of their game with dreaded Stonewall Prep, the highest-ranked team in their division. 

After the other girls leave in carpools, Betty, Ethel, and Toni stay behind to help wash the dishes, all four of them shooing Midge’s mom away as they split up the work.

“Your mom is the cutest, Midge,” Toni says, standing elbow to elbow with Betty at the sink while Ethel and Midge sit on the counter drying dishes.

“Isn’t she?” Midge says, and the rest of them all murmur different versions of dissatisfaction with their own mom—or in Toni’s case, lack thereof. Her mom’s been MIA for as long as she can remember. (During dinner, Mrs. Klump had delighted the team with her anecdotes about attending ERA rallies in the 70s.)

“I wish my mom was a badass feminist role model,” Toni complains.

“Speaking of feminism,” Ethel says. “Betty, did Weatherbee ever get back to you on Toni’s feminist column?” 

They’d all been outraged when Principal Weatherbee’s required critique of their draft plan for the first newspaper issue had included objections to a regular opinion column Toni wanted to write about feminist issues in Riverdale. 

“Oh, right!” Betty says, realizing she’d updated Toni but not her other friends. “Yesterday Jughead and I made a _very_ persuasive argument about freedom of the press. Weatherbee’s letting us publish Toni’s column.”

Toni raises her eyebrows. “Don’t you mean _you_ made a very persuasive argument while Jughead stood next to you trying to look tough in his sherpa jacket?” Midge and Ethel laugh in agreement. 

Betty rolls her eyes, laughing. “Details, Toni, details.”

“So, what’s your first column gonna be about, Toni?” Midge asks.

“Hmm,” Toni says. “Well, my editor-in-chief-” she pauses to bump Betty’s hip with her own at the sink. Betty giggles. “-says I have another week to get her my draft, so I’m still vacillating between a couple ideas.”

“All I’m saying is that you should wait until at least your second column to start talking about bisexuality and sexual fluidity! Ease people into it!” Betty says, continuing a conversation they’d had on their walk to practice earlier that afternoon.

Toni giggles. “You’re right, you’re right, second column it is.”

“You should write about how no one cares about girls’ sports at Riverdale High,” Ethel suggests, and they all snort, laughing. “What?” she protests. “It’s true!”

“True though it may be, my friend,” Toni says. “I don’t think it would be the best way to get on the good side of those football-hungry Northsiders.” 

“Okay, but how about…” 

The evening continues like that until Ethel’s mom arrives to give Toni and Betty a ride home, and Betty wishes it never had to end.

* * *

October 2nd rolls around, and Jughead has never been more excited to be invited to a sports game on his birthday. Field hockey is a convenient distraction from his least favorite day of the year. A painful distraction, considering Riverdale plays top-ranked Stonewall Prep, who clobber them 9-0 and spend the majority of the second half mercying the Riverdale High team. Everyone involved looks relieved when the ref blows the final whistle of the game. 

Jughead is grateful to see this relieved look reflected back at him when Betty spots him waiting for her in his usual spot next to the fence. “Pop’s?” he asks before she can even say “hi” and she nods gratefully.

Josie notices Betty and Jughead beginning their usual walk to the diner and offers to drop them at Pop’s on her way home, and Jughead sits silently in the backseat while Betty and Josie rant about how bitchy the girls on the Stonewall Prep team had been.

“It’s like, you’re already _way_ better than us, you gotta be rude too? For what reason?” Josie rants as they pull into the diner lot. She turns around to look at Jughead. “I’m so sorry for ignoring you, Jughead. The post-game rant is a sacred ritual.”

Jughead laughs. “No offense taken. If there was a competition for ranting, I’m sure you guys would be winning.”

Josie laughs. “Oh, Betty, your friend is the sweetest.”

Betty giggles. “Right?” She leans in for a good-bye hug. “Thanks for the ride!”

“Yeah, thanks!” Jughead says, climbing out.

“Any time, babes!” Josie says, and then she’s turning up the music and driving away from them.

“I’m so hungry,” Betty says gratefully as Jughead holds the door open for her. The corner booth is taken, but Betty’s favorite booth closer to the counter is available, so they slide in and order almost immediately.

Jughead grins, popping French fries in his mouth and listening to Betty talk about their chances against Greendale next week. All is going according to plan until Jughead spots the Andrews truck pulling into the parking lot. His cover is about to be blown, he just knows it.

The bell clangs and Fred Andrews walks in the door, his gaze landing squarely on Betty and Jughead. He immediately walks over, enveloping Betty in a hug as she cheerfully greets him.

“And a very happy birthday to this guy here!” Fred says, releasing Betty and clapping Jughead on the back. 

Jughead winces at Betty’s attempt to not look shocked and confused as Fred launches into an old story about Jughead and Archie. “Thanks, Fred,” Jughead says, trying to muster as much enthusiasm as he can.

“Hey, where _is_ Archie?” Fred asks. When Betty and Jughead both shrug—Jughead can’t remember the last time he knew Archie’s whereabouts on a weeknight—Fred sends them an unmistakably sad look.

“Well, I gotta pick up some take-out, but you two have fun tonight, okay?” Fred says. As he approaches the counter and says hi to Pop he loudly adds, “Put Betty and Jug’s meal on my tab, okay, Pop?” Fred waves to them once more as Pop hands him a bag of food and he heads back out.

Betty turns to Jughead as soon as Fred is safely out of earshot. “Oh my God, it’s your _birthday_? Wait, I’m a terrible friend! How did I not know this?”

“Don’t feel too bad, Betty; that is by careful design.” He pauses at her confused face. “Haven’t you noticed that I never celebrate my birthday?”

Betty thinks for a few seconds. “Wow...I guess not. At least, until this moment.”

“You know my parents, Betty. They were never cut out to be...well, parents. The first...I don’t know, seven years of my life maybe, they insisted every year that they would throw me some special, perfect birthday celebration. And every year I believed them.”

“Oh, Jug,” Betty says, a pained tone in her voice that tells him she knows exactly where this conversation is going.

“And every year, they let me down,” Jughead continues. “Until my eighth birthday. I finally said no more. No more birthday celebrations. It’s not worth it.”

Betty nods. “I’m really sorry, Jug. I respect that.” She pauses for a minute. “But, I do have to insist on ordering you a sundae. Consider it payback for that first-field-hockey-game celebration last year.”

She winks at him and flags Pop down, and Jughead can’t really argue with that.

“So, you’re sixteen today, huh?” Betty says. “Very Molly Ringwald of you for no one to know it’s your birthday.”

Jughead laughs heartily as Pop sets down the sundae with two spoons. “Enjoy, birthday boy,” he says with a wink before walking away.

“Yes, I am sixteen,” Jughead confirms, picking up his spoon and taking a first bite of chocolate ice cream. “The age of all teen movie characters.”

Betty shakes her head, laughing and licking ice cream off her spoon. “I was thinking more along the lines of, you can get your driver’s permit this year and start practicing for your license, right?”

Jughead nods. “Yep, I’m pretty excited about that. I mean, I’m already halfway there.” Betty agrees; after all, as early as seventh grade, FP had started taking Jughead out for laps in parking lots with the truck _and_ the motorcycle. Betty had tagged along a couple times, fascinated by automobiles ever since Fred started fixing up a classic car the summer they turned ten. 

“I can’t wait to drive,” Jughead admits. There’s a certain freedom factor that he craves. 

“What car would you want to get?” Betty asks, her eyes lighting up. 

“Hmm,” Jughead says. “Dream car or realistic car?”

Betty shrugs. “Both?”

They talk until long after the ice cream is gone.

.

.

.

Betty and Jughead start walking toward Elm Street without discussing it, Betty continuing her rant about how Mrs. Burble, the school guidance counselor, has been _impossible_ to pin down. 

“I need her comment on at least three different stories for this first issue and yet, she’s by far the most difficult source on staff!” Betty declares angrily. “For someone who boasts about the need for more mental health professionals in our school, she sure doesn’t communicate particularly well with students,” Betty continues. “I mean, even the _physical education_ teachers do a better job of answering emails than her! And Charles had warned me that back in his day, they were the worst sources. I guess the times have changed.” 

“I don’t know,” Betty says, after taking a little break to—Jughead assumes—breathe. “She’s just been so hot and cold with me. Maybe she just hates journalists. Whatever it is, she is, by far, the worst journalistic source on the Riverdale High faculty.”

“You are right, I have been persuaded,” Jughead says, chuckling. There’s no way any teacher has ever had to help Betty Cooper write a thesis statement. 

Betty laughs. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get so heated.”

“Why are you apologizing? I’ve always liked your rants,” Jughead says, though he frowns a little as they approach an intersection that will bring them only a couple minutes from saying good-night. 

As if she can read his mind, Betty says, “Um, do you mind if we turn here, go a little longer?” She pauses, then adds, “I just don’t want to go home yet.” She looks at him, eyes vulnerable, and he can see the unspoken words there: _I know you understand because you don’t want to go home either. Right?_

“Definitely,” Jughead says and they turn away from Elm Street in silence. “Is...everything okay?” he tries, wincing at how weak it sounds. 

Betty gives him an incredulous look. “When have things been ‘ _okay’_ in Alice Cooper’s house?” she says in a joking tone and Jughead laughs.

“Okay, Betty, why don’t you leave the sardonic humor to me and tell me what’s going on?” Jughead says and then Betty starts laughing too.

“Ah, thanks. I needed that,” Betty says. She sighs, taking a long look at the pristine houses they pass. By walking in the direction they did, they’ve headed further into the wealthiest part of the Northside, because _yes_ , class is stratified enough in Riverdale that status can usually be inferred from the visual cues of any given block. 

She turns away from the houses with a shudder, looking purposefully in front of her. “Things have never been _great_ between my parents. Like, they’ve always just felt so…” she searches for the words. “... _cold_ with each other, I guess? They never touched or acted affectionate or...I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been thinking it over lately and it just doesn’t really seem like they were ever in love.”

Jughead frowns. Although the Jones house had always been full of its share of chaos and unresolved trauma, he _can_ remember a version of Gladys and FP that was once young and in love. They’re some of his few pleasant childhood memories—his parents waltzing around the kitchen or kissing way too long as Jellybean and Jughead covered their eyes. His heart hurts that Betty has never experienced that.

“It’s just...since Polly left for college, they’ve been fighting like, _way_ more than usual. At least, I’ve never heard them fight so much.” She sighs, balling up her hands into fists. “What about you?” she asks, daring to look at Jughead for the first time since she’s confessed this new information about the Coopers. 

“Are we talking about why I don’t want to go home?” Jughead asks, smirking at her. She nods. “Let me count the ways,” he says in an exaggerated tone and Betty snorts.

He shrugs. “No, but seriously. I know I hate my birthday but...it still sucks that my mom didn’t call.”

“You’re _kidding_ me?” Betty says, face aghast, but Jughead shakes his head.

“I wish I were,” he says. “And my dad wasn’t even awake when I left earlier. So. The parents have made this another shitty Jones family birthday.”

“I’m so sorry, Jug,” Betty says. “You deserve so much better.”

Jughead shrugs. “I got better. Ice cream at Pop’s with my best friend is all I need.”

She grins at him, bumping his hip with her own. “Hey, you never told me how _your_ assignment is going? That lead you were following about Dilton’s secret bunker in Fox Forest?”

“It hasn’t gone anywhere _yet_ , Betty, but you must have patience,” Jughead says, smirking as she starts laughing and protesting.

Betty walks laughably slowly once they finally reach Elm Street, so Jughead lets her tease him some more about his dead-end Dilton Doiley story and how it almost certainly will need to be pushed to the second issue at this rate.

“Can you just tell me who your source is?” she says, going silent when they suddenly _hear_ the Cooper house before they _see_ the Cooper house. They’re still two doors down, mostly hidden by the neighbors’ elaborate shrubbery. But it’s the unmistakable sound of Alice’s shrill scream, followed by the booming yell of Hal Cooper. He’s heard the latter less often, but still—it’s scary. He never wants to be on the receiving end of _any_ Cooper’s wrath, if he’s being honest. 

The front door slams and they peer around the shrubbery to watch Hal climb into his car and pull out of the driveway, zipping away before Jughead can process what’s happening.

Jughead turns to Betty, but she’s still silent, hands balled up into fists. Betty’s eyes are watery but her mouth remains in a stubborn line. “That’s the second time that’s happened,” she says. “He’ll come back. I think.”

Jughead nods. “I’m sorry, Betty.”

She starts walking, pausing again on the edge of her front lawn. Alice has drawn the curtains, no doubt aware of the neighborhood ruckus they’d caused. All the lights are off. “Alice probably took some sleeping pills,” Betty quips, dragging her sneaker through the grass absentmindedly.

Jughead laughs nervously. “Are you okay?”

Betty looks up at him. “Mmhmm. I’ll be okay. Do you think you could just...stay here a bit? Until I’m ready to go inside? I just...need a minute.”

“Of course,” Jughead says. “After all, I still have to tell you about that source.”

Betty’s eyes light up and she drops her stick and sports bag before moving to sit on the grass, patting the spot beside her. He laughs. They haven’t sat on Betty’s front lawn like this in a long time. But he joins her, because Jughead has no desire to start the walk across town, only for there to be a 50-50 chance that the scene awaiting him in the trailer involves beer cans and a passed-out dad. 

They’re still sitting there shooting the shit when a Jeep full of older football guys pulls up to drop off Archie next door. Their whoops and hollers make Betty instinctively clam up.

Archie seems surprised to see them. Jughead rolls his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets and averting his eyes. 

“What are you two doing out here?” he says, his voice slurring a bit. _Ah_.

Jughead sighs as they both move to stand up. He averts his eyes as Betty wipes a couple stray pieces of grass from her butt.

“It’s Jughead’s _birthday_ today,” Betty explains to Archie sharply, the same disappointed look on her face she’s been giving Archie and Jughead since they accidentally broke her Etch-a-Sketch.

“Dude! Happy birthday!” Archie yells, jumping at Jughead and enveloping his stiff body in a huge hug. “We _need_ to hang out soon to celebrate! All of us!”

He throws an arm around Betty, suddenly noticing the blue and gold jersey she’s wearing. “Oh, wow, was there a field hockey game today?” Archie asks.

Betty smiles fakely. “Yep.”

“Okay,” Archie says, seemingly unnerved by Betty and Jughead’s lack of enthusiasm. “I...gotta do some uh, homework. But we’ll hang out soon, right? I miss you guys.”

“Sure, Arch,” Betty says quietly, like she wishes she could believe him.

“Good night, bud,” Jughead says thickly, both of them watching in silence as he struggles to unlock his front door and then, eventually, disappears inside the Andrews house.

“Well,” Jughead says to Betty, the mood sufficiently killed. “Guess I’ll head home then.”

Betty nods. “Happy birthday, Jughead. I’m happy you were born.”

Jughead grins, trying to ignore the tingling sensation in his belly. “Night, Betts,” he says, turning to walk across town.

.

.

.

Jughead is only five minutes into the walk home when his cell phone rings. He rolls his eyes at first, but then pulls his headphones down at the thought it could possibly be Jellybean.

It’s _Betty_. A warmth spreads through him and he quickly picks up. “Hello?”

“That was really depressing,” Betty immediately says. “And I wondered if it might help to talk on your walk home.”

Jughead laughs. “To be honest, I expect very little from Archie these days.”

“But it shouldn’t be that way, Jug,” Betty insists in the same tone she’s been using to win arguments since they were kids. 

“I know. I guess...it’s easier for me to expect nothing from him.” 

“I just...I miss Archie. But...not that Archie, the one climbing out of that Jeep. I don’t know who that guy is. I miss our best friend,” Betty says and Jughead’s heart clenches at the anguish in her voice.

“Me too,” Jughead admits. “I try not to think about it, because…”

“...you’re Jughead and you enjoy suppressing your feelings?” Betty supplies, and he’s glad to hear her laughing. 

“That’s one way to put it,” Jughead says, laughing along. Everything is always so _easy_ with Betty. “I just...I miss being the one he came to for advice. I miss _wanting_ him to come to me for advice. How can both things be true?”

“I don’t know,” Betty says, just above a whisper. 

“I miss the three of us hanging out the most, though,” Jughead says, and he means it. Even as he selfishly hoards all the alone time with Betty he can get, there’s something irreplaceable about the three of them wasting hours together in Archie’s treehouse. 

“I know. The other day I was thinking about–” Betty cuts off when they both hear a loud beep. “What was that?”

Jughead groans, taking the phone away from his ear to find a flashing warning on his screen that his phone is about to turn off. “Ugh, Betty. My battery is gonna run out so I regret to say, I must hang up. But this has been a true pleasure.”

“No worries. Until tomorrow, darling!” Betty says jokingly. “Sorry, Pepper is _really_ rubbing off on me. Good night!” It doesn’t stop Jughead’s heart from skipping a literal beat. _Fucking Christ, get ahold of yourself, Jones._

.

.

.

The next day, as they’re working in the _Blue and Gold_ office over lunch, Betty timidly asks if she can play a new song she recently discovered and is _obsessed_ with. Only two weeks into the year, they’d brought in a stereo Polly left behind when she went to college, along with a few old Beatles CDs Betty found in her attic. Jughead agrees immediately, intrigued.

Betty places a CD into the stereo and it starts playing an upbeat British alternative song called “Not Nineteen Forever” by The Courteeners. Betty spins around the office, singing along and dancing as she pulls index cards for finished stories off their board. 

Jughead watches her—some whimsical pairing of carefree dancing and intense concentration that only Betty Cooper can achieve—trying not to look too obvious and wishing it was easier to tell your childhood best friend that you’re hopelessly in love with her. 

* * *

Betty’s shocked when Veronica invites Betty, Cheryl, and Kevin over for a sleepover at the Pembrooke on a Saturday night. After confirming two times that it was _just_ a sleepover and not some ploy to trick Betty into attending a house party, Betty agrees. She figures it’s as good an excuse as any to not be around her parents, and she does miss her friends. It’ll never stop being strange to be unsure about what’s happening in their lives.

They sit in a circle on Veronica’s unbelievably soft bedroom carpet, Betty refusing the champagne that Veronica pours into flutes for everyone else.

“Do you have any sparkling apple cider for little Betty here?” Cheryl asks, voice dripping with condescension, and Betty stands up, offended.

“ _Cheryl_!” Veronica snaps. 

“I can leave if me not drinking is a problem,” Betty says, face in a hard line. She can feel anxiety bubbling in her stomach, her fists clenching defensively. 

Veronica quickly gets to her feet too, putting her arm around Betty. “We totally respect your decision not to drink, Betty. Cheryl, that’s not cool.”

Cheryl shrugs. “ _Sorry_ ,” she says with a huff. 

“Don’t leave, Betty, please. We miss you,” Kevin says in a soft voice.

Betty sighs and nods. “Okay.” Veronica claps her hands together excitedly and they both return to the circle on the floor. 

“So, Betty, what’s going on with you lately?” Kevin asks.

Betty shrugs. “Working on getting out the first issue of the _Blue and Gold,_ field hockey, and homework. Same old, same old.”

“Ah, yes, field hockey,” Cheryl says, sipping her champagne.

Betty shoots them a questioning look. “What about it?”

Veronica shrugs. “I guess we just didn’t realize you were taking it so seriously.” 

“Yeah, like, I didn’t know you scored _goals_ ,” Cheryl says.

Betty’s sure her face must look really confused because all three of them burst out laughing. 

“Betty, you have the _most_ expressive face!” Kevin says, taking another swig of champagne as he laughs.

“Right,” Betty says, unsure what else to say. Her phone lights up on the floor, and she glances to see a text notification from her group chat with Ethel, Midge, and Toni. She turns the phone over, wanting to focus on her other friends while she’s with them.

Veronica has topped everyone off, and now Kevin is ranting about his ever-present, hopeless crush on Moose. Apparently this year they’re lab partners in chemistry class and Kevin’s hoping Moose will invite him over to do homework together. Betty shifts uncomfortably on the floor. After all, she’s good friends with Midge too.

“Hey, Betty,” Cheryl says and Betty’s gaze snaps up. 

“Yeah?”

“Tell us more about that friend of yours.” 

Betty scrunches up her face in confusion. “Which…?”

“Um, the girl who plays field hockey and has pink hair,” she says way too quickly and Betty raises her eyebrows. 

“That’s one of my best friends, Toni Topaz,” Betty says, a little too satisfied at the way Veronica flinches at the label. “She’s from the Southside and she’s like, one of the best players on our team.”

Cheryl nods, clearly attempting to maintain a neutral expression. “I didn’t realize she was from the Southside,” she says, though Betty isn’t sure she believes her. Betty has always suspected that Cheryl has a mild-to-strong crush on Veronica ever since she got particularly possessive during one of Veronica and Archie’s nastier middle school break-ups. But this new Toni development is...interesting. _Very_ interesting.

“You should get to know her,” Betty says. “She’s cool.”

Cheryl shrugs. “What’s going on with you and Archie, V?” she asks instead of answering. Classic diversion.

Veronica sighs deeply, taking a big sip of champagne. “Oh my God, where to even begin?”

The next ten minutes are extremely graphic and Betty struggles not to visibly wrinkle her nose at what she considers TMI about two of her oldest friends. Unbeknownst to Betty, but spoken of as common knowledge, Veronica and Archie started having sex over the summer. She’s not surprised, but still, it’s weird. Apparently Archie had recently decided that “between music and football, there just isn’t room for a steady girlfriend in my life.” (Kevin performed an impressively on-point impression in Archie’s voice, and Betty can’t help but shriek with laughter along with her friends.)

“I want him back,” Veronica says firmly. “And I _will_ get him back. But in the meantime, let’s talk about _your_ love life, Betty.”

Her friends’ eyes again hyperfocus on Betty, and her face flushes red. “Me? I don’t have a love life right now. And I’m okay with it. I’m not interested in anyone.” 

“Betty, Betty, Betty,” Kevin says. 

“What?” Betty says, exasperated.

“Don’t you know that Reggie Mantle is _super_ into you?” Kevin asks, Cheryl and Veronica nodding so enthusiastically beside him that Betty becomes convinced this is all a very rehearsed plan. 

Betty rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes. But I already rejected him weeks ago. He can move on to a more interested party.”

“But don’t you think you two would be good together?” Cheryl presses.

Betty shakes her head. “With someone who barely knows how to string an intelligent sentence together?” Betty says. “I think not.”

“Don’t be a snob, Betty,” Veronica says.

Cheryl inspects her nails. “Honestly, Betty, you really have to lower the bar if you’re into straight men. Can _any_ of them string an intelligent sentence together?”

“Exactly,” Veronica says.

“Besides,” Kevin says. “How do you know you don’t like him if you’ve barely hung out with him since like, middle school, at this point?”

“Come to the party with us at Chuck’s next weekend! You can get to know Reggie better, hang out with us,” Cheryl says. 

Ah, there it is. _Of course_ there’s an agenda. 

Betty shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I don’t like parties, I’ve told you this! I’m too busy for a boyfriend anyway. Now, please, can we talk about something else?”

Cheryl and Kevin look like they’re ready to protest, but Veronica holds them back with her signature icy glare. “Let us know if you change your mind,” Veronica says softly before adopting her usual fun-sleepover voice and suggesting they watch _Mean Girls_ while laying in Veronica’s king-size bed. 

Betty settles under the duvet with her friends, getting lost in an old favorite movie they’ve seen a million times before. 

“Danny DeVito, I love your work!” Kevin yells along to the movie, like always, and Betty feels thirteen again, laughing freely. 

But she turns to exchange a smile with Veronica and remembers that Cheryl, Veronica, and Kevin are playing a drinking game to the movie. And then Kevin slurs the next line he quotes and Betty’s heart sinks. 

For the rest of the night, she goes between moments when she’s having fun like the old days and moments when she feels completely out of the loop. 

As they’re getting ready to go to sleep, her field hockey group chat lights up again. Betty lets herself look and tries not to laugh out loud at an inside joke Toni had sent. Ethel and Midge’s responses are priceless too, and, laying there sober amidst her other friends’ drunken laughter, Betty finds herself missing them.

.

.

.

Ethel invites Betty and Toni over after practice the day before Midge’s birthday, and they bake cupcakes to bring on the bus. They’re headed for an away game against a team certain to beat them—and by a lot.

“ _Fine_ ,” Penny concedes when the team lines up to board the bus and she spots Betty and Ethel’s Tupperware containers and pleading faces, as well as the giant “Happy Birthday” balloon Pepper had contributed to the cause. 

“But no cupcakes until _after_ the game, okay?” Penny warns, and everyone agrees, Midge just a little embarrassed about all the commotion. 

Sure enough, ninety minutes later, the team that returns to the yellow school bus has been sufficiently clobbered and is both hungry and excited to celebrate Midge’s sixteenth birthday. 

As Pepper and Josie distribute napkins, Betty feels her phone buzz. She sings the birthday song along with everyone else, slyly checking her phone to make sure it isn’t Alice.

 **jughead:** that band i was telling you about the other day, Washed Out, is playing a set at that weird music venue in centerville in november. wanna go? it’s like, dirt cheap.

Betty smiles at the message, pausing to cheer with the rest of the girls as Midge blows out a fake candle Trula drew on notebook paper.

Looking back down at her phone, she bites her lip and texts back.

 **betty:** only if you burn me more of their music first. 

“Betty!” Toni calls, and Betty tucks her phone away in her bag. “We need your assistance to open this second Tupperware! It won’t budge.”

Betty laughs, standing up from her seat and walking up the aisle. “Coming!”

.

.

.

The next day, Jughead shows up to one of their biweekly lunchtime _Blue and Gold_ sessions with a CD sleeve in hand. 

“Whoa,” Betty says when he places it on her desk before sitting in his own chair and shoving off his messenger bag. “You’re quick.”

This time he’d doodled waves all over the sleeve with a blue marker, along with “Washed Out” in bubble letters he’d clearly given up on halfway through, so that the “out” is far jankier than the “washed.” 

She grins. “Can we listen to it now?”

“Well, we’re gonna have to listen to something if we’re gonna get this first issue out a week from today,” Jughead counters and Betty agrees, standing to put the new CD on the stereo.

“Precisely my thoughts,” she says, returning to her desk just as the song “Feel It All Around” begins emitting through their workspace. 

.

.

.

It’s wild how much can change in a year. 

When Penny calls for the team to end the day’s practice with drives around the circle, Betty finds herself cheering instead of dreading her turn. Hitting a drive still might not be Betty’s strongest suit, but she’s grown a lot in the past year since the first day she stood shoulder to shoulder with Toni and Tina, hands sweating.

Now, she stands between Toni and Melody, making jokes about how she’ll be the “palette-cleanser” between the two star offenders on their team. 

“I want Trula in the goal and two defenders on the goal posts!” Penny says, calling the team to attention as Trula walks into the goal fully suited-up. “Ethel, Tina, and Alexandra, the three of you can sub in and out.” She pauses as Ethel and Alexandra run into the circle and position themselves. “Pepper, you can begin.” 

Melody ends up hitting such a powerful drive that Betty and Toni jokingly bow at her feet when she finishes, everyone giggling and cheering. 

“Now, that’s what I call sisterhood!” Pepper yells excitedly. 

Pepper’s words replay in Betty’s head as the team follows Pepper into the center of the field for a cooldown stretch, Betty herself linking arms in a giggling human chain with Toni, Melody, and Valerie. In less than two months, Toni and Betty have connected with their younger friends much in the same way Josie and Pepper had doted on them the year before. More than just a flowery cheer to yell in a group huddle, the idea of their field hockey team functioning as a “sisterhood” has never felt more real and alive. 

.

.

.

It’s a Monday late in October, the part of field hockey season when the team is forced to don blue Underarmour shirts underneath their jerseys to stay warm on the field.

When the lunch bell rings, Betty heads to meet Jughead in Principal Weatherbee’s office. His secretary, Miss Bell, had called for the _Blue and Gold_ staff to report to the office during lunch, which could only mean one thing: the issue has arrived.

Sure enough, when she reaches the office, Jughead is already picking up the cardboard box waiting for them at Miss Bell’s desk. (Principal Weatherbee had promised they could print a larger run if, and only if, the first issue played well with the student body.)

“Hey, Betts,” he says, grimacing a little at the weight. “Just in time. Let’s get to the office and open this bad boy?”

Five minutes later, they open the door to the newspaper office, Jughead groaning in relief as he finally places the heavy box down on one of the two desks. Sun shines through the one smudged window, casting dust bunnies in columns of light across the little room.

Betty hands Jughead the boxcutter, admitting that her hands are shaking too much to open the box herself. He happily complies, slicing through the tape and ripping back the cardboard flaps to reveal their first-ever print issue of the revived _Blue and_ _Gold_.

Betty reaches into the box and pulls out the copy sitting on top of the pile. She can’t help but smile at the feel of the newsprint against her fingers. As a daughter of journalists, the smell of fresh ink has always comforted her. 

The cover came out exactly as they’d envisioned it: a haunting spread of Toni’s silhouette-portraits of students whose mental health stories are told in the pages of their features section, _Inside the Mental Health Crisis at Riverdale High._

She looks up at Jughead and he’s watching her, a proud smile on his face. “I can’t believe we did it,” she says.

“I can,” Jughead says. “With you leading the charge, this,” he stoops down to pick up a copy of his own, pointing to it as he continues, “came out even better than I ever thought possible. Congratulations, Betty.”

“Congratulations to you too, Jug,” she counters. “It was a team effort.” She reaches for him and envelopes her best friend in a hug.

A flash of light makes them pull back. Toni grins at them from the door, lowering her trusty film camera. “A candid moment for the ages!” she declares before peering inside the box herself. “Oh my God, this looks amazing!” 

“ _Your photos_ look amazing!” Betty counters. “Hey, wait, turn that camera around. We need a full staff photo of this moment, for posterity.”

Toni and Jughead grumble a little about it, but they agree to hold up issues of the newspaper and pose for a photo all crowded together.

(Years later, a print of that selfie of Betty, Jughead, and Toni will still find a place on Betty’s wall. The excitement and exhilaration on their faces could only be captured by sixteen-year-olds.)

“I guess now comes the fun part: distributing the newspaper,” Betty says.

“Ah, yes.” Toni walks out into the hall, pulling her friends Fangs and Sweet Pea into the office from where they’d apparently been waiting outside.

“Fangs, Sweet Pea, this is the famed Betty. And this is Jughead.”

“Hey!” Betty says. “I’ve heard so much about you guys.”

“Us too,” says the shorter one, Fangs, as he holds his hand out to Betty and Jughead for a shake. Betty tries not to giggle at how bewildered Jughead appears at the formality.

“Yeah,” Sweet Pea says, immediately mirroring his friend’s actions. “We want to come to one of your field hockey games _so_ bad, but we both always get stuck with afternoon shifts.”

Betty laughs. “Aw, that’s sweet. One of these days maybe.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Toni says. “I know we’re obligated to drop a certain amount of these into the newsstands in the lobby, but the three of us can make the rounds and give a bunch of these out to Southsiders. We’ll hit all the usual lunch spots if you two can take the Northsiders.”

Betty nods, even as Jughead seems confused. “Jug, Toni and I discussed this at practice the other day. If we don’t make a concerted effort to get this newspaper directly into the hands of students, we’ll never get rid of these and Weatherbee will never let us print more copies! You know barely anyone ever picks up what’s in the newsstands.”

Jughead holds his hands up in surrender. “As always, you win,” he says, and Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs laugh as they begin dividing up the pile of newspapers amongst the five of them.

.

.

.

“You can do this, Grumpy,” Betty teases Jughead as they walk into the cafeteria, each holding a sizable stack of newspapers in their arms.

“I don’t know, Betts,” Jughead says, pausing to shift his grip. “I have it on good authority that too much social interaction will cause me to literally melt.”

Betty shakes her head, laughing, as she leads them down the aisle toward their friends’ usual table. “Okay, Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Oh, wow,” Veronica says as they approach. “I love this look for you, B. Very _Newsies_.”

Betty laughs, letting out a little sigh of relief as she and Jughead drop their stacks on the table and take a minute to breathe. “Extra, extra!” she says jokingly. “Take some newspapers!”

“Wow, it looks _really_ good,” Kevin says, pausing to stare at the photos.

“Amazing job, guys,” Archie agrees, though he skips immediately to the sports section. 

Betty’s not sure what to make of the swirling of feelings in her stomach, the way validation from her oldest friends fills her with a pride that no one else’s approval ever has. 

“Toni took these photos?” Cheryl asks in a low tone and Betty just nods, trying to hold the knowing laugh threatening to bubble to the surface.

“Wait, Cheryl,” Veronica says, sitting next to Archie as they both flip through the sports section. “There’s a gorgeous photo of you on page...20.”

Betty’s stomach drops a little as she watches the entire table flip to page 20—past Toni’s feminist column, past Betty and Jughead’s haunting mental health-focused features, past even a sports feature on Moose Mason she’s pretty proud of—to stare at the River Vixens photo spread. 

“Toni’s photos are great,” Jughead tries, shooting Betty a sympathetic look like he can read her mind.

Betty gulps with a defeated shrug. “Um, let us know what you think of the rest of the issue tomorrow,” she says to her friends. “Me and Jug should go hand these out to everyone else.”

Their friends all wave, heaping more praise and congratulations on Betty and Jughead as they lift their stacks and head to the next table. 

“You totally owe me a burger,” Jughead hisses in Betty’s ear right before they paste on fake smiles and greet Dilton Doiley and his usual group of friends huddled around a Gryphons and Gargoyles board at the next table.

That afternoon, Josie offers to drive Betty and Toni to practice with their last stack they reserved for the field hockey team. 

“I feel like this is a visual representation of my life,” Betty jokes as she emerges from Josie’s car wielding her pink field hockey stick and a stack of newspapers. Josie and Toni burst out laughing, Toni carrying Betty’s sports bag for her despite Betty’s feeble protests.

“Extra, extra!” Toni calls when they reach the benches where most of the team is already fastening on shin guards and cleats. 

“That sounds way better when you say it,” Betty laughs.

“Betty revived the paper and it looks _amazing_ , take one!” Toni says, throwing an arm around Betty as their teammates crowd around them and excitedly grab their copies.

“Toni, these _photos_!” Tina gushes.

“Betty, the features section looks _perfect,_ ” Josie says, a hand over her heart as she pauses at Jughead’s Southside-drug-addiction article. 

“I can’t wait to read your column, Toni!” Trula says, which is the most enthusiastic thing Betty has heard her say in awhile.

“Amazing achievement, Betty and Toni,” Penny says, tucking an issue into her bag. “But I want to see all of you on the field in five minutes for stretching! We have a game on Thursday we could actually win.”

.

.

.

In her relatively short field hockey career, Betty has only played a total of three or four games that Penny classified as “winnable.”

And today’s game against Milton High, a brand-new team in their division, is apparently one of them. The team has run so many offensive drills over the past two days getting ready to score on a rookie goalie that Betty almost feels guilty when the Milton High girls emerge from their bus in green-and-gold uniforms looking incredibly nervous. 

_Almost_. 

Because, just as the Riverdale High team is getting ready to stretch out, a tall, blonde-haired Milton High player makes sure to be extra loud as she passes their bench: “Wow, I didn’t realize they even _let_ white girls play for ghetto-ass Riverdale.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Josie yells, getting to her feet, with the rest of them scrambling to join her.

Betty’s fists are clenched as the girl shrugs with a smirk and walks toward the opposing team’s bench. The girl was skillful enough to wait until Penny walked away to the bathroom, so no adults had been in earshot to catch her. Betty scans the green-and-gold crowd and realizes she doesn’t spot a single non-white face. It startles her. Riverdale has always been pretty diverse and she’d never considered it wouldn’t be that way.

Pepper wraps Josie up in a calming embrace while the rest of the team gathers around the pair. “Girls, let’s go stretch out,” Pepper says after a minute, Josie and Pepper linking arms as the team solemnly walks to the corner. “It’ll relax us, then we’ll talk.” 

Circled up, everyone begins stretching in a contemplative silence, following Pepper’s moves though Betty’s quite sure her body could do this sequence of stretches in her sleep at this point in the season. 

“I’m _angry_ ,” Pepper finally says when they finish, her voice quiet but dangerous. “I’m angry that our opponent would come onto our field and immediately use hateful language to intimidate the Black players on our team. That kind of racist rhetoric has no place _anywhere_.” She pauses. Pepper and Josie have been close friends for a long time, and from the way Josie smiles and nods along, Betty can tell that Josie has heard these words before. The thought makes her heart sink.

“Do any of our Black sisters have anything they want to say?” Pepper asks. 

Josie looks to Melody, to Valerie, to Toni and Alexandra, but they all shake their heads. 

“I have something to say,” Josie says, and the other girls look a little relieved. “I don’t really talk about it, but something like this happened to me my freshman year on this team.” Pepper nods beside her. “A Seaside player called me the n-word on the field.”

There are gasps from the other girls. “We didn’t win that game,” Josie continues, her voice even. “But we can win this one. The best thing we can do right now is not stoop to their level. So please, for my sake, don’t yell anything back at them. Let’s beat them on the field instead. Let’s fucking _wipe the floor_ with those racists!”

The team starts clapping and cheering. “Huddle up, girls!” Pepper calls. “Group hug! Sisters protect each other, right?”

“ _Yes_!” everyone screams back. Betty finds herself squeezing Toni and Melody extra hard.

.

.

.

As they line up to start the game, Betty lands directly across from the very player who had spewed that racist garbage at them. She figures it’s for the best that the blonde forward is the one who has to face this asshole down as they wait for the ref’s whistle to blow.

This game feels different immediately. 

Toni quickly gains possession of the ball, dribbling skillfully around one of the offenders and passing to Melody before any of the Milton High players can catch up. Betty and Midge both sprint ahead, weaving in and out of the Milton defenders as Melody, Valerie, and Toni pass back and forth, evading interception by the other team.

Betty enters the circle just in time to receive a pass from Valerie. 

“ _Betty_!” Almost instinctively, Betty turns and passes at the sound of Toni’s voice. 

In a matter of seconds, Toni slams the ball into the Milton goal, easily sliding past their fumbling goalie. 

“ _Yes_!” Betty screams, pumping her fist in the air as she joins the pile of players crowding around a victorious Toni.

Riverdale High is officially winning.

.

.

.

With three minutes left on the clock, the Riverdale High field hockey team is excruciatingly close to winning their first game of the season.

Betty hasn’t come out of the game for longer than a couple minutes’ rest. After Toni’s initial goal, the Milton High team managed to hold them off for the rest of the half. But still fired up, Josie managed to fire a lethal shot into the goal only five minutes into the second half, and the score has held at 2-0 since.

(When she scored the goal, Josie dropped to her feet, tears coming to her eyes. As a senior, this game was Josie’s second-to-last chance _ever_ to score a varsity goal. Betty’s so happy for her friend, who had confessed to her a few nights earlier in the car that she was sad she’d only ever scored two goals during her four years on the team.)

Now, Betty is racing back toward the Riverdale goal. One of the Milton High offenders has possession of the ball, moving quickly up the field. The player attempts a drive into the circle, maybe hoping it’ll hit one of their defenders’ feet and trigger a penalty corner. Whatever that player was thinking, she’s no match for Ethel, who immediately stops the shot in her place and drives the ball up to Midge. 

Midge is steadily heading up the field toward the Milton High goal, dodging defenders like a pro, when the ref blows the final whistle of the game. 

“We did it!” Pepper screams, running at Josie and embracing her. 

Betty shoves off her eye-mask and mouthguard just in time to receive a crushing hug from Toni. “Cooper, we actually won!” her friend shrieks. 

Then Penny and the girls on the sidelines are running in to meet them and every member of the Riverdale High field hockey team is embracing, laughing, and cheering. Betty swears she sees Penny wipe a tear from her eye before declaring, “This year, the Riverdale High field hockey team has a _win_ to our name!”

(Technically, the one home game they have left next week is against a team so much higher-ranked than them, it’s a certain loss. Per tradition, that game will have the Senior Day celebration directly following it at Pepper’s house. But they could never have pulled off a win. This had been their last real shot for the season.)

“Not only a win, but a shut-out for our girl Trula!” Penny adds.

Everyone cheers for Trula, who looks flushed and excited in the circle. After all, it’s a hard life for the goalie of a losing team. 

“Not to mention, we took on those racist bitches and we _won_!” screams Pepper.

Penny puts her hands over her ears. “I didn’t hear anything,” she says with a tight-lipped smile as the rest of them scream and cheer and knock their sticks together loudly. 

In the end, they go out the right way. They don’t sneer at the other team, don’t give into the bait as a couple of the Milton High girls yell smack talk at them while filing toward the parking lot.

“Celebratory Pop’s for everyone!” Pepper yells as the girls begin unsuiting.

“Forget next week, this is the real Senior Day!” Josie laughs. 

.

.

.

Josie’s right; on just the ride to Pop’s alone, the atmosphere is more festive than any Senior Day celebration Betty will ever attend.

When they reach the parking lot, Josie insists that Jughead get in her car and join them, contending that he’s “basically an honorary member of the team at this point.” Jughead bashfully accepts, and it’s nice to be squeezed in the backseat between Toni and Jug. He’s relatively quiet in the car, just listening to Betty, Toni, Josie, and Melody talk loudly about the game and laughing when someone makes a funny joke. Toni and Melody finally feel comfortable talking about how shitty that racist girl had made them feel now that they’re no longer in front of everyone. Toni rests her head on Betty’s shoulder.

“I’ll beat that girl up for you guys, I swear,” Betty says. “ _No one_ says that bullshit about my friends. I’m so sorry you have to deal with that shit that we white people don’t have to.” Jughead nods beside her, having been filled in on what happened shortly after getting in the car.

“Thanks, Betty,” Toni says. “We love you. As long as you keep calling out the racists alongside us, we’re good.”

“You know it,” Betty says. “Maybe something for the next issue of the _Blue and Gold_? An article about racism in sports culture? Or even a whole theme?”

She looks to Toni and Jughead and they both nod approvingly. 

“Yes, girl! I love that idea!” Josie says.

“See, this is why I play field hockey,” Melody says. “The smartest girls in school, I’m telling you.”

The atmosphere only gets more festive in Pop’s, where they commandeer four booths and tell Pop the good news. “You girls won?” Pop sounds incredibly excited, even throwing his favorite Temptations song on the jukebox as he says, “I’m so proud of you all. This is a party!” 

The bell on the front door rings a few minutes later, announcing the presence of Moose Mason, apparently having skipped out on some unofficial Bulldog-Vixen hang-out to congratulate Midge on their win. 

_It’s better this way_ , Betty thinks. No jocks to shit on their track record or laugh at them from afar. Just the team and their friends, celebrating with fries and laughter and dancing to songs on the jukebox. Jughead sits next to her in the booth, eating and smiling and joining in the conversation like he belongs or something.

Maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.

.

.

.

Josie gets Betty home right at 10 PM.

“Thanks for the ride, you goal-scoring legend!” Betty says as they move to hug good-bye. 

“Thanks, love. But you hurry up and get in there before Alice Cooper bites your head off.”

Betty laughs. “See you tomorrow.”

She smiles, watching Josie drive away and ambling slowly up her front walk. It’s tempting to stay outside, where she can keep this feeling of belonging and giddy excitement all to herself. She unlocks the door with a sigh, trying to convince herself that nothing her parents say can bring her down.

She wasn’t expecting Alice and Hal Cooper to be sitting patiently on the couch, clearly awaiting her arrival. Their expressions are nothing short of grim, and Betty’s smile quickly fades.

“Cutting it close to curfew, Elizabeth, aren’t we?” Alice says curtly, gesturing toward the armchair opposite them.

Betty looks suspiciously around the living room, immediately feeling like something is...off. As she lowers herself into the chair, she spots the Cooper family’s largest suitcase in the corner and her stomach drops.

“Look, this isn’t easy to tell you, honey,” Hal begins and Betty clenches her fists, bracing for impact. “But your mother and I, we’re…”

“We’re separating. Effective immediately,” Alice finishes coldly, refusing to even look at Hal. “Tonight your father will be leaving for a ShareBnB.”

Hal nods feebly. “In Greendale. You can visit any time you want, sweetie.”

It feels like a dozen tiny needles are stabbing Betty in the stomach. Sure, she hated their fighting. She _knew_ they were unhappy. But somehow she’d never expected to end up _here_ , on the proverbial couch, getting the divorce talk from her parents. For her to be sitting here alone, the last kid standing, is maybe the saddest part of it all. Like they were trying to hold on until Betty flew the coop but just couldn’t make it last.

But Betty doesn't know how to verbalize any of this, so what comes out instead is fairly practical. _God, I_ am _a Cooper._ “What about...the paper?”

“I actually found a job at the county paper in Seaside,” Hal explains, Alice sitting stiffly and expressionless beside him. “Greendale’s a little closer, so it’ll be an easier commute. And then it’ll be easier for…” He glances at Alice, but she still refuses to look at him. “For us to figure this out going forward.”

Betty nods. “Um...okay.”

They don’t say any of that boilerplate divorce stuff—none of the “it’s not your fault, we just grew apart.” No “we still love you above all else.” It’s as stiff and quiet and inflexible as she’s always known her parents to be. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised. 

Hal leaves soon after that, picking up the suitcase and giving Betty a quick kiss on the forehead with a quiet “I love you, sweetie” and a curt nod in Alice’s direction before exiting the house. The front door shuts solidly behind him, the lock clicking in place, and Betty and Alice sit there, the only sound Hal shutting his car door and driving away into the night.

And then, he’s really gone.

Alice moves to get up and Betty can’t help but angrily yell, “ _Mom_!”

When Alice turns to look at her, it’s with more emotion than Betty expected. It’s a little shocking to see on her usually-composed mother’s face. “What, Elizabeth?” she asks, sounding as exasperated as ever.

“I just...I wanted to know if you were okay. Just...this is a lot to process,” Betty says, her voice betraying how lost she feels.

“I know, Betty,” Alice says, moving forward and grabbing her shoulders. It’s probably the most soothing gesture she’s gotten out of her mom in a long time. “But we’ll get through this, okay?” She gives her a weak, short hug, then steps back.

“Do you...want to talk about it, Mom?” Betty tries, but Alice just stands there for a minute, staring into space.

“I have a headache,” she finally says when she speaks again. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long night. I think I’ll take one of my pills and head to sleep.” She disappears up the stairs just as quickly as Hal escaped, and Betty’s left alone, standing in the living room in complete disbelief. 

She can’t believe how calculated it all felt, wonders how long they’ve known about this plan.

Betty isn’t sure how long she stands there, unsure what to do. 

All she knows is that eventually, she decides to call Jughead.

.

.

.

They meet back at Pop’s, Betty throwing on her field hockey hoodie and counting on Alice’s sleeping pills to cover up her stealth escape from the house after curfew.

Jughead is already sitting in the corner booth waiting for her. She shoves into the seat across from him, lowering the blue hood from her head. “Hi,” she says quietly.

“Hey,” he says, his blue eyes piercing her with understanding.

Pop arrives at their table, wordlessly pouring them two mugs of coffee. He doesn’t ask them why they’ve returned so soon, correctly reading the vibe. “Anything to eat, kids?” he asks softly, and Jughead nods.

“Just two orders of pancakes,” he says, shooting Betty a challenging look when she opens her mouth to protest.

“You seemed sad on the phone,” he explains after Pop has walked away. “Sad this late at night means pancakes.”

Betty’s surprised that Jughead’s simple logic is enough to make her crack a smile. “Fair enough,” she says, stroking her mug out of habit.

“So…” Jughead says. “You said something happened with your parents? Is everything okay?”

Betty shakes her head. “My dad left tonight. They’re separating and...I think they’re gonna get divorced. I mean, my dad already had a new job and a place to stay. It just feels so...final and complete and decided.”

Jughead frowns. “Wow,” he says. “Our parents sure have a flair for the dramatic, huh?”

Betty laughs at that. “Apparently!” She pauses and throws her head into her hands. “I don’t know how to feel right now,” she says, voice muffled as she lays on the table.

“That’s completely understandable, Betty. I mean, they’ve been fighting for months, right?”

Betty lifts herself up from the table and nods, gulping. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “They were so vicious with each other.” She sighs deeply. “I know it’s probably for the best long-term that they be apart, but...I just feel sad. And numb. And kind of betrayed to know they’ve been making these plans about my dad moving out without telling me.”

Jughead is the kind of friend who will listen without judgment, and so she lets it all out. 

“Do I sound crazy?” she asks, barely above a whisper, when she finishes.

He shakes his head. “Are you kidding? I swear I felt every single emotion when my mom took off. There’s no right way to feel. This sucks, Betty, and you’re allowed to be upset or mad or sad or all of it.”

Pop stops by again with their two plates of pancakes and a bottle of syrup. He shoots Betty a sympathetic smile as he drops a dish of butter packets next to her and then walks away, as if knowing innately that Betty needs a moment.

She concentrates on her pancakes, feeling surprisingly comforted by her first bite. “You were right,” she says to Jughead, laughing at the smug look he reflects back at her.

“Hey, where’s Archie?” Jughead asks, his face changing. “Couldn’t make it?”

Betty shrugs. “I...didn’t call him. Didn’t really think of it till...you said that.”

Jughead nods. “Sometimes I miss it,” he says, and she nods, knowing exactly what he means. 

“Sometimes,” she agrees, taking a big bite of her pancakes.

After a long silence, Jughead clears his throat. “Not to awkwardly change the subject, but that talk in the car today actually got me thinking. About the second issue of the _Blue and Gold_ , I mean.”

“Oh, great,” Betty says, face immediately brightening. “Lay it on me.”

Jughead pitches an idea about the locally-owned motorcycle shop on the Southside, specifically highlighting how they collect food donations for families in need—which in the Southside usually means poor families of color.

“Jug, that sounds perfect,” Betty says. “I wish I had a pen with me.”

Jughead laughs. “ _You_ left the house without a pen?”

Betty shrugs, pulling her hoodie more tightly around her. “I was in a hurry.”

He nods sympathetically. A pause, then: “Hey, random, but I’ve been meaning to ask: are we still on for that Washed Out concert next month? I should buy the tickets soon.”

Betty thinks for a second. She _had_ enjoyed that CD he burned for her. Betty nods, feeling a little sliver of hope in her stomach as she says, “Yeah, count me in. Something to look forward to.” She pauses. “Thanks for being such a good friend, Jug.”

“Awesome! I’ll buy the tickets tomorrow,” Jughead says, his eyes glittering as he takes a big gulp of coffee. “And _yes_ , Betty, you don’t even have to ask, I _will_ write a column on the concert for the paper. And if this devolves into a regular music column, then so be it…”

“Jughead, what did I say about you writing a regular music column?”

“That and I quote, ‘no one wants to hear some white dude’s snobby music opinions.’ And in rebuttal, I have prepared at least three points.”

Betty laughs, settling back into the booth. “Okay, fine. Let’s hear them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for hitting you over the head with gratuitous self-reflection about life changes but also not sorry because that’s EXACTLY what i was like as a teenager. Lol.
> 
> Did I do the white-people-being-racist-trash moment justice? I figured lining up our favorite ragtag team winning a game for the first time with a “fuck you” to some shitty racists was the kind of catharsis we could all use right about now. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought! 
> 
> Until next week,
> 
> Maria


	3. chapter three: juniors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all, welcome to chapter 3! Just off the bat, wanna warn you this is definitely the most Betty-centric chapter of the bunch. You’ll see why! 
> 
> Also, my aim was to post this fic on a once-a-week schedule but i seem to have miscalculated a bit in my progress for this fic, since i’m also submitting two pieces to the Riverdale Pride and Joy Zine that i now need to prioritize. I’m thinking chapter 4 will probably be ~1-2 weeks late but will be coming ASAP! Thanks to y’all for being the most amazing readers thus far, i promise chapter 4 will be worth the wait <3
> 
> Without further ado,
> 
> Maria

_for your optional listening pleasure:_[ mix cd #3](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7GyRBiY3k4GrgD0uE5gCzK?si=6jjoN92jTTaO6PTzFCfleA)  
  


* * *

_Walking around in our summertime clothes_

_Know where to go when our bodies go_

_And we'll breathe it down this morning bloom_

_With the purple young, and you're sleeping soon_

_And I want to walk around with you_

-animal collective (2009)

* * *

  


**_summer 2010_ **

It’s the second week in July, and Betty leaves for field hockey camp tomorrow. It’ll be the first break in Betty and Jughead’s summer routine, which they’d fallen into without even realizing it. 

Alongside Archie, Jughead took a job working for Andrews Construction, while Betty found a more air-conditioned position for the summer behind the check-out desk in the Southside branch of the public library. Most days they get off around the same time and meet up for dinner to respectively avoid FP and Alice. Afterwards, they’ll usually just walk around town, sometimes stopping at the river or the drive-in or wherever their feet take them. 

Like now.

They sit side by side on a bench under the shelter of an abandoned bus stop on the edge of town. It’s one of their new favorite spots, discovered no more than ten days earlier on one of their first summertime sojourns around Riverdale. 

In the months after field hockey ended, Betty had poured herself completely into the newspaper. It had paid off; somehow, they’d managed to snag third place in a national newspaper contest for the mental health crisis issue. (“We’re well on our way out of this place, Betts,” Jughead said as they embraced to celebrate the news.)

(In less exciting follow-ups, this achievement for mental health awareness didn’t quite have a happy ending for Betty on a personal level. Alice snapped a firm “we can’t afford therapy until after the divorce is final, Elizabeth” when Betty finally worked up the courage to ask Alice if she could schedule an appointment to talk about her anxiety. Never mind that was only a day after Betty’s parents told her they were officially getting a divorce.)

As such, Betty still tried everything in her power to avoid the house on Elm Street: staying late with Jughead at the _Blue and Gold_ after school, doing homework at Pop’s with Veronica and Cheryl or her field hockey friends, volunteering to help out with activities at school. 

Anything to avoid her house, still seething with the emotions and anger of the failed Cooper marriage. Both her parents are lawyered up and deep into discovery, scouring through financial records and trading jabs over email. Based on the conversations Betty overheard between Alice and her lawyer, it seems that the mostly-unused family minivan will likely be sold as part of the settlement. _So much for getting a car to drive around senior year like Charles and Polly did._ For weeks now, Betty and Jughead have gotten into a new habit of counting down the days till October when Jughead will finally get his license. At least FP’s truck is still up for grabs.

“You excited to get out of here for a few days?” Jughead asks softly, scuffing his feet absently through the dirt.

Betty shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess. I’ve never been to field hockey camp so I don’t really know what to expect.”

(It’s the first time a significant number of Riverdale field hockey players have accepted Penny’s usual pleas disguised as friendly reminders about field hockey camp. Apparently no one had taken Penny up on her offer in years, but Penny actually has a connection with an old teammate upstate who can snag discounts for the camp. Betty and Toni had worked seasonal retail together at the mall last December to save up, after a bunch of them got inspired at the banquet dinner to attend camp together, hoping to build off the momentum of their single win.)

Betty pauses, remembering the detailed group chat conversation in which Toni, Ethel, Midge, Melody, and Valerie had been texting her all day long about what to bring to camp. “But I’ll be with friends and it’s not too long.”

Jughead snorts. “Speak for yourself. I don’t know what I’ll _possibly_ do without you for four days.”

Betty laughs. “Why don’t you spend some time on your _secret project_?” 

(Maybe three issues into sophomore year, Betty realized she hadn’t asked Jug about his novel in months. He’d laughed at her attempts to apologize, countering, “Betts, I don’t even want anyone to know I’m writing it. Why would I be upset you didn’t bring it up?” She shot him a challenging look back. “But we’re talking about _me_.” He sighed and admitted, “Okay, I’m a little stuck. Hoping the summer break will be a good time to get back on the proverbial horse.”)

“That’s not a bad idea, Betts,” Jughead says now, sighing. “I should park myself at Pop’s, do nothing but write and eat burgers for four days until you return.”

Betty giggles. “There’s that signature drama I’ll miss.”

He laughs, looking away from her. “You’ll be too busy kicking ass at camp.”

.

.

.

Betty and Toni’s dorm room somehow becomes the designated nighttime hang spot, just a bunch of girls with freshly-washed hair lounging around in field hockey pinnies eating vending machine food. 

On the last night of camp, Betty sits on her bed squeezed between Ethel and Melody, laughing as Valerie and Toni try to teach Midge how to do a dance routine in the tiny room. 

“You gonna try, Betty?” Melody jokes.

“You don’t want to see me try that,” Betty counters, laughing and digging her hand into a bag of pretzels. “Trust me. I know my strengths.”

Ethel and Melody giggle as they continue watching the half-hearted performance. 

“I give up, girl,” Valerie says after another couple minutes. “Try one of those YouTube tutorials maybe?”

“Or accept your fate like Betty has,” Melody counters and everyone laughs. 

Midge, Valerie, and Toni climb back onto Toni’s bed. Midge admits, “You know, the whole reason I wanted to learn that dance routine is because...well, have you guys heard of that club in Seaside that has 18+ nights once a month?”

Everyone nods. “Well, I was hoping maybe I could...I don’t know, meet someone there,” Midge explains. Toni places a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. At the end of April, Moose had broken things off with Midge rather unexpectedly, saying in tears that he just didn’t “feel it” anymore but that he didn’t want to lose her as a friend. She’d been heartbroken for a couple months, but is finally over the hump...perhaps even more than they’d known. 

“Wow, Midge,” Ethel says. “I didn’t realize you were _that_ over Moose.”

Midge shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess...he had some points. By the end, it felt more like we were best friends than anything else. So maybe it’s better this way.”

“That’s great, Midge,” Toni says, squeezing her shoulder.

“How about you guys? Any crushes?” Midge asks, looking around the room with a devilish look on her face.

Melody shrugs. “Not necessarily.” She and Valerie lock eyes and start giggling.

“Okay now, what are we missing?” Betty says, looking suspiciously between the two of them.

“Okay, okay,” Melody says. “We’ve been meaning to ask Toni...what’s the relationship status of your friend? You know, the dark, tall, and sexy one?”

Toni bursts out laughing. “Oh, you mean Sweet Pea?” 

“ _Yes,_ ” Valerie says.

Toni laughs. “He is, indeed, single.” She exchanges a meaningful look with Betty, but says nothing more. Toni had once told Betty that she’d had almost all of her “firsts” with Sweet Pea, even if they ultimately decided they were better off as just friends.

“Nice, nice. Good to know,” Melody says. 

“Ethel, are you still into Dilton?” Betty asks curiously.

Ethel shakes her head. “Nah, Dilton’s old news. I’m actually…” She blushes. 

Betty gives her a playful nudge on the arm. “New crush?” she inquires.

“Oooh!” Valerie coos.

“Okay, I’ve hung out with Dilton’s best friend Ben Button a couple times this summer and I think I’m...into him,” Ethel admits and all the girls cheer for her jokingly, though she remains beet red.

“As for my love life, I’m still tryna get your feisty redhead of a friend to look my way, Cooper,” Toni says. 

Betty shrugs. “I’ll try my best to help you,” she says, laughing. She doesn’t have much confidence in her ability to sway the mighty Cheryl Blossom.

Toni considers for a second. “Honestly, your friend Veronica’s pretty hot too.”

Betty sighs. “If only I could just get them to come to a game!”

“Hey, Betty, what about you?” Melody asks and everyone looks in her direction.

“Yeah, have you and Jughead kissed yet, or what?” Midge asks.

Betty starts to laugh, thinking they’re joking, but her face turns bright red when she sees nothing but genuine curiosity staring back at her. “What? Jug and I are just...best friends.” 

“Really?” Valerie says. “I mean, he comes to _all_ our games, and don’t you guys do the paper together?”

“You _are_ always together,” Ethel says, nudging Betty back. 

“And he’s been in like, every story you’ve told over the last few nights,” Melody adds.

Betty shrugs. “I don’t...I don’t know what to tell you guys. Sorry I don’t have anything juicier for you.”

“If you say so.” Valerie coughs. “Okay, how about that dude Chuck Clayton? He’s in your grade, right?” she asks, pointing toward the rising juniors. 

“Oh my God, _no_ way, let me tell you a story about him…” Midge says.

Betty tries to recover but her face still feels hot. Across the room, Toni shoots her a sympathetic look before returning to the conversation. 

.

.

.

The following morning, Betty and Toni stand along the fancy turf field, squirting water into their mouths after finishing their second-to-last game of the day. They watch girls run out onto the field they’d just vacated; the two best teams are about to determine the winner of the final tournament of the week. Meanwhile, Betty, Toni, and the rest of their teammates will be walking to the lower field to battle it out with the other loser team for 3rd place instead of 4th.

“Typical Riverdale High field hockey, am I right?” Toni says and Betty laughs.

“You’ve got that right.”

“God, I’m exhausted,” Toni says. “This has been a really good way to whip us into shape before preseason, but I am beyond ready to go home.”

“Ugh, same,” Betty says. 

She loved sleepaway camp growing up, but attending camp focused _solely_ on field hockey for nearly ten hours of the day is quite draining, and she’s excited to sleep on her soft bed. She appreciates Polly’s complaints about her tiny dorm room mattress a lot more now. She can’t wait for Alice to pick her up in a few hours.

“You got any plans when you get home, Cooper?” Toni asks.

Betty blushes, thinking back to last night’s conversation. Admittedly, she already has plans to see a movie with Jughead that night. And she can already hear the teasing that will result if everyone catches wind of this latest piece of info. But this is _Toni_. So she tells her. 

Toni just gives her a knowing smile. “Look, Betty, all I’m saying is, think about it. Maybe we’re all seeing something you’ve overlooked.” 

Betty shrugs, shifting uncomfortably. She knows that Toni has loads more experience in the dating department—including having almost all her “firsts” with _her_ childhood best friend and managing to remain close friends after. 

“Okay,” Betty says, taking another big swig of water and moving to adjust her ponytail holder as their coach blows his whistle. 

  
  


* * *

_Walking away_

_Talking all day_

_Ooh I want you_

_Ooh I want you_

_But there's something about the summer_

-best coast (2010)

* * *

  
  


**_late summer 2010_ **

For once in Jughead’s young life, it had actually been a good summer and he owes it all to Betty.

He’d gotten used to a new summer rhythm, Betty taking the morning shift at the library and coming by the construction site to meet him when he got off. Or he’d accept Archie’s invitation to walk over to Pop’s with Arch and Moose and Reggie, knowing that Betty would save him a booth he could escape to when people started inevitably crowding around the jocks. After walking Betty home, he still crashed at the Andrews’ house on the exceptionally hot nights, though usually Fred let him in, neither of them entirely sure where sixteen-year-old Archie spends his summer evenings. 

This rhythm didn’t differ much from the one they’d fallen into once Betty’s schedule opened up after field hockey season ended, devoting any extra time to pulling together increasingly ambitious issues of the _Blue and Gold._ Betty planned to continue ramping up their scope, considering this “our last full year to put a good impression on our college applications.” 

There’s nothing Jughead loves more than sitting in a booth, eating fries and listening to Betty rant passionately. This summer especially it served as a good distraction, stretching the time until he had to worry about being home again. Jughead’s dad had been getting worse for months, the beer cans piling up at a higher rate than he’d seen since his mom first left. 

The summer began with meticulous pro-con lists that Betty insisted they make in her ruthless pursuit to make the paper even better. Perhaps that’s what he loves the most about Betty—how relentless she is when she gets something into her head; how nearly everything she ever gets into her head tends to help others. They moved from the pro-con list to a flurry of Post-Its with proposed improvements to the newspaper. 

They debated which columnists from the year before to continue and which they should pass on: Toni’s feminist column was an instant fan favorite and Dilton Doiley’s scientific column a surprising hit; Trev Brown’s attempt at a sports column had failed miserably between lackluster writing and missed deadlines. Regrettably, Pepper’s advice column had graduated with her, as had Josie’s intermittent music column she’d picked up the previous winter. 

Meanwhile, they’ve continued to sit on the question of whether to give in to Kevin’s pestering to let him write a gossip column. Neither of them are sure it meets their journalistic standards, which has kept them putting the decision off all summer. 

For some reason, the thought of that one remaining Post-Itis what propels Jughead to text Betty on the last day of summer, sitting on the side of the trailer daydreaming, having long lost his place in the book on his lap.

* * *

Betty checks her phone during a midday water break, expecting Veronica and Archie to reach out to make plans to meet at Pop’s that night. Instead, she finds just a single text from Jughead.

 **jughead:** what time does your practice end? last night of summer meal at pop’s?

 **betty:** nothing from archie and co on your end either?

 **jughead:** negative

 **betty:** sigh. we’re done at 5

 **jughead:** awesome, see you at svenson then

Betty blushes, already dreading the meaningful looks and suggestive comments her friends will make when they spot Jughead leaning against the chain link fence waiting for her. 

Sure enough, he arrives at 5 on the dot. “Your boyfriend’s waiting for you, Betty,” Valerie hisses.

Betty jokingly flips them all off as she walks to meet him, pretending not to hear their whoops and cheers and shouts of “get it, Betty!”

“Did you just score a goal or something?” Jughead asks when she reaches him, face scrunched up in confusion.

Betty laughs. “Something like that,” she says, relieved he doesn’t question further. 

They start walking toward Pop’s and Jughead sighs. “So, just the two of us tonight, huh? I know we could've seen this coming but it’s still weird…”

“...not to have plans with Archie and Veronica on the last night of summer?” Betty supplies. “I know.”

“Probably some Bulldogs rager or something,” Jughead says. 

Betty wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. Anyway, on to brighter topics. Remember how I told you that Toni and Melody were put on a team with those bougie Connecticut girls on the first day of camp?”

Jughead nods. “Oh, yeah. You said they had surprisingly good ideas?”

Betty nods, smiling. “And today Penny agreed we could adopt one of their tricks: taping a little cheat sheet to our sticks with all our corner hits. We had a huge problem with the younger girls forgetting their corners last season, and we figured this could help.”

“Wow, that’s pretty genius. I’m guessing you’ll put it somewhere on the stick where the other team can’t see it?”

“Correct,” Betty says, giggling. “Otherwise it would be pretty pointless.”

“True,” Jughead says, laughing. “Hey, well you guys have a win to your name now. Makes sense you’d step it up.”

“Anyway, the point is, I told Ethel I’d help laminate them. So now I can’t work on newspaper stuff on Saturday.”

Jughead laughs. “You’re a saint, Betty Cooper.”

“I’m _too_ busy, actually,” Betty counters, giving Jughead a mock-curtsy as they reach the diner and he holds the door open for her.

After they’ve settled into the corner booth and ordered, Jughead tells her about his most recent phone call with Jellybean, how she’s gotten _super_ into guitar and wants to start an all-girl rock band with her friends. 

“How’s Alice?” asks Jughead when he’s finished, with the wariness they’ve all come to adopt when discussing Alice Cooper.

Betty laughs. “Oh, you know, divorced!Alice. She is completely distracted at all times, way more aloof than she ever was when we were growing up.”

“Oh, don’t I know,” Jughead says, a visible shiver running down his spine. She can tell that he’s recalling Alice Cooper’s wrath that time he accidentally tracked mud into the kitchen during a barbecue.

“She’s completely different now,” Betty says, shrugging. “It’s the same amount of emotional distance and neglect, but without the helicopter-parenting. I feel like Charles or Polly would’ve benefited more from this lack of supervision than I am, but I’ll take it.”

Jughead laughs. “Yeah, isn’t the youngest supposed to be the rebel child?”

Betty shrugs. “I’ll settle for Child Who Gets The Fuck Out of Here and Never Looks Back.”

Jughead grins. “Glad we’re still in agreement on that.”

Betty wrinkles her nose. “But the gross part is, I think she may be seeing someone.”

Jughead’s face turns similarly disgusted. “ _Alice_?” he clarifies.

Betty nods. “I know, it’s gross. But the way she told me she was busy when I asked if she could come to my game on Wednesday night, it just…” She shudders. “I could tell, trust me.”

Jughead holds up his hands in surrender. “I don’t need to know any more.”

Betty giggles, eating a couple more fries for something to do with her hands more than anything else.

“I’m sorry your parents aren’t supportive of field hockey, Betty,” Jughead says, his voice turned soft and gentle, a tone she rarely hears when they’re around anyone else.

Betty shrugs. “I really have downplayed how much it means to me, to them.” She worries her lip between her bottom teeth. “I think? I can’t keep track anymore...of what I say to comfort myself and what’s actually real.”

Once the words leave her mouth, Betty realizes how much she really means them. It scares her. She looks up at him, fearful she’s said too much, that she’s finally opened up the part of herself that will be too much for Jughead.

But Jughead smiles, reaching forward and touching her hand gently. “You’re real, Betty. Your feelings are real. And you deserve for there to be a million people cheering for you in the stands on Wednesday.”

Betty blushes when she realizes that tears have come to her eyes. She quickly withdraws her hand, standing up and ducking her head away from Jughead’s view. “Just gotta use the bathroom,” she says quickly before darting in the opposite direction.

The one-stall bathroom is, thankfully, unoccupied. She slams it closed, securing the chain lock and sinking down against the door, breathing heavily. Betty knows what this is: another anxiety attack. 

She tries to center her breathing, a deep breath in and a deep breath out. She hears Pepper’s voice in her head and it makes her smile, relaxes her a little, complete with the strange accent she always affected. Betty could never tell where she was from, had never dared to ask. 

When she finally calms down, she wipes the tears from her eyes and takes a good look at herself in the mirror. “You’re a wreck,” she whispers, grabbing a napkin from the metal dispenser against the wall and attempting to fix her smudged make-up to little avail. 

She pictures Jughead, probably waiting patiently for her in their usual booth, and something suddenly feels absurdly nervous inside her belly. It’s _Jughead_. Just her best friend. She looks in the mirror again and frowns, opening her purse and pulling out a hairbrush. _It couldn’t hurt..._

* * *

_I wish you would tell me_

_How you really feel_

_But you never tell me_

_'Cause that's not our deal_

-best coast (2010)

* * *

  
  


**_fall 2010_ **

Everything changes on a Wednesday. 

You never know what you’re gonna get on a September day in New York, but this particular Wednesday is the _perfect_ day for a field hockey game: sunny and clear, with a slight breeze in the air. Yet Betty has never been more distracted.

Somehow—mostly due to there being an especially small number of field hockey seniors this year—Trula Twyst now awkwardly wears the crown of team captain. Her lack of pep has been apparent in their new stretch circle routine, which generally includes near-silence and a few sentences of attempted enthusiasm at the end. The new arrangement gives Betty way too many minutes to let her mind run wild about all her responsibilities: another load of AP courses, improving the _Blue and Gold_ , and Jughead...well, ever since field hockey camp, she’s been dreading this first game, if only because she’s deathly afraid her friends will say something to Jughead. (She hasn’t quite processed _why_ she’s deathly afraid; she just knows that she is.)

“Look, we’ve actually beat Milton High before, okay?” Trula says as they wind down to their final stretch. “Put your hearts into it and we might be able to take home a win today.” 

“We can do it!” Melody tries to add in a peppy tone. Valerie and Midge both pipe up half-hearted cheers. Trula shoots them a grateful smile, and then the circle disperses awkwardly.

“This is gonna be an _interesting_ year,” Toni says, laughing.

“Seriously,” Valerie says. “Nice try, Mel.”

Melody shrugs. “I don’t know why Penny made Trula captain. Don’t get me wrong, she’s actually an amazing goalie. But she’s so quiet.”

“Yeah, but so is Tina,” Ethel says. 

“True,” Melody sighs. “Well, I feel like we’ll need to make sure the freshies don’t get turned off by the unintentionally weird vibes.” Her eyes flit toward two of their freshman recruits, Rosalind Walker and Sabrina Spellman, walking in front of them with their arms linked.

“We’ve always been good at that,” Toni teases, bumping Valerie with her hip. “Right, Betty?”

Betty snaps to attention, face burning. Truth be told, she’d been scanning the metal bleachers since they started walking, hoping to spot Jughead waiting for the game to start. But so far only Sabrina’s overeager boyfriend Harvey Kinkle and a handful of parents dot the stands.

“Sorry, what?” she says. Thankfully, when they reach the benches most of the other girls tune out the conversation as they reach for mouth guards and cleats. 

Toni gives her a knowing smirk but says, “We were just saying we need to make sure Roz and Sabrina feel welcome despite Trula’s...odd vibes, if you will.”

“Oh, definitely!” Betty says, feigning enthusiasm as she stoops down to grab her water bottle, a convenient excuse to hide her reddening face. She takes a minute to press the cold bottle to her cheek, then her forehead.

Betty sits next to Toni on the bench, both of them strapping on shin guards and tying up cleats in a companionable silence.

“Do you think those Milton High bitches are gonna fuck with us again?” Toni asks quietly.

Betty sighs. The question has been on her mind too, along with unpleasant memories of last season’s penultimate game. “I hope not,” she says. 

(Admittedly, they’d managed to achieve justice concerning the Milton High girls. The idea hatched in the car ride to Pop’s was realized last spring into a full race-centered issue of the _Blue and Gold_ that made its rounds across the entire county. Last they’d heard, the Milton High student who spouted the racist vitriol at the center of a vivid personal essay submitted by one Josie McCoy had been suspended from the field hockey team. They had yet to spot her among the green-and-gold-clad players that had departed the Milton bus twenty minutes earlier.)

“Hopefully that girl won’t be back,” Betty says. “And the rest will have learned their lesson.” 

Nevertheless, she chances another look back at the stands, disappointed to find that Jughead still hasn’t arrived. 

“Coaches and captains!” yells one of the refs. 

There’s a jumble of nerves in her belly, but it doesn’t feel like first-game-of-the-season jitters. If anything, since the second the other team arrived, Betty has been more fired up and ready to face their opponents than ever. It’s just that her gaze can’t stop flitting up to the stands, to the point that she thinks she may have scared little freshman Harvey Kinkle, who keeps stubbornly looking away from Betty every time she searches for Jughead.

“Betty!” Toni calls and Betty’s face flushes red when she realizes this is the second time Toni has caught her spacing today. “You okay?” Toni asks softly, nodding toward the center of the field, where Penny and Trula are shaking hands with the Milton girls. “It’s almost time.”

“I…” Betty looks back up at the stands weakly, still finding no sign of Jughead.

Toni shoots her a quizzical look. Betty shakes her head. “I’ll fill you in later,” she promises as Penny and Trula start walking back toward the team. Around her, everyone’s picking up their sticks and tightening their ponytails one final time before heading out to meet them. 

Betty barely registers that she’s grabbed her own dirty pink stick, palms sweaty as her brain cycles through all the places Jughead could possibly be _besides_ Svenson Memorial Field. Where he’s _supposed_ to be. Jughead has never missed a field hockey game before.

_Maybe he’s at the trailer?_

_Or one of his_ Blue and Gold _stories took off in some weird direction and he couldn’t tell me in time?_

_Oh no, what if something’s wrong with his dad? Or Jellybean or Gladys?_

_God, what if he took the motorcycle again? And what if this time Sheriff Keller caught him and he’s in cuffs? Or he got into a bloody, awful crash trying to get here and I’ll never see him again._

The last thought has Betty shaking her head to expel the thoughts, taking a deep breath and attempting to concentrate on Trula’s stunted words of wisdom in the pre-game huddle. Betty can’t let herself imagine where that thought could go, can’t let herself descend into a full spiral before one of the most important games of the season.

“Betty,” Penny says a few minutes later and she nods in recognition. “You’re good to stay in the same starting position as last season?”

Betty nods again, more enthusiastically this time. “Absolutely,” she says, and Melody and Toni cheer for her. 

She sneaks another glance over at the stands, unable to help herself. Still no crown-shaped beanie. But Betty notices other things: the way her heart races, how she tries to casually strain her neck toward the parking lot, hoping to see Jughead in the distance, walking toward her. 

And there, huddled up on the field with her teammates, that’s when it finally clicks: _oh fuck,_ _they were right._ Something has shifted, and Betty’s not even sure when. Had it happened over the summer? Or even before that? Everything that once felt stable about Betty’s junior year is suddenly shifting on the roughly-manicured grass underneath her cleats. _Because somehow, someway, Betty Cooper_ likes _Jughead Jones._

 _How can this be?_ Jughead has always been her friend—someone who’d seen her at her most embarrassing moments, from her hopeless childhood crush on Archie that had thankfully subsided long before high school to the time she peed herself in anticipation at one of the midnight _Harry Potter_ release parties back in elementary school. For so long he’s been her closest confidante, the one with whom she’d shared her love of mysteries, who never tired of reading books with her in Archie’s treehouse, who agreed last year to go along with her wild idea to relaunch the _Blue and Gold_. Who never argued or complained when she pushed their ideas to become more and more ambitious, but went along with it and even seemed to encourage it in her. 

And then there’s the undeniable fact that over the summer, Jughead had really...grown up. It was like a summer toiling for Fred Andrews was all Jughead needed to complete his transformation from lanky, awkward teen to...Betty has a hard time putting what she’s feeling to words when she pictures him now. She’s surprised to realize that her default mental image of Jughead has become Jug in his white tank top, grinning goofily at her as he exits the construction site, lunchbox swinging in his hand. 

Thoughts of Jughead suddenly enter her mind: his soft blue eyes, his strong arms, his lips. It’s like something she hadn’t realized was long dormant inside her had been awakened. Warmth floods Betty down to her core and she crosses her legs, shifting and looking around at her teammates nervously. Thankfully, no one seems to have noticed her inability to concentrate, all still intently listening to Penny.

Betty blinks twice, trying to refocus on her coach’s words. “So we’re gonna get out there and bring this home, right?” Penny yells, and everyone cheers. 

Sticks start clattering together in the circle and Betty tries to quiet the fluttering in her stomach that won’t let up. She’s not used to this. Her crush on Archie _never_ felt like this, like it had taken over her body. Like she swears she won’t be able to breathe normally again until she sees him. As Trula calls for the traditional cheer—“we are Bulldogs, we are sisters”—Betty sneaks one last glance at the stands, frustrated to find that Jughead has _still_ not shown up.

Toni gives her a concerned smile as the starters begin shoving on their eye masks. “You okay, Coop?” she asks softly once again and Betty shrugs.

“I don’t know,” she says. “But I’ll be okay for the game.”

Toni nods in understanding and they both put in their mouth guards, tapping sticks before jogging out to their positions on the field. Melody shoots her a significant nod from her place opposite Betty on the field, and Betty blows a kiss back. 

This is how she’ll get through this game, centering herself the way Penny and Pepper taught her to. Focusing on nothing but these girls, this team, this game. Betty finally looks ahead at their opponents, face in a hard line, and refuses to give into her intense urge to sneak just one more glance at the bleachers.

The whistle blows, and Toni lurches forward, immediately dominating the game. She maneuvers the ball around a forward, then a half-back, before passing off to Betty just above the Milton High circle. 

Betty starts dribbling, with barely enough time to search for a teammate to pass to until a Milton fullback is on her. Lucky for Betty, the player knocks the ball against her own foot in her attempt to wrest it from Betty. 

The ref’s whistle blows. “Penalty Riverdale! Number 10, take it at the 16, please.”

Betty usually _hates_ having to hit penalty shots from the sideline, but it does provide a nice little reset. As Betty jogs to the spot where the ref has placed the ball, she adjusts her stick hand and looks toward the bleachers.

A strange sigh of relief escapes her mouth when she notices a crown shaped beanie moving through the stands. Sure enough, Jughead has just arrived, looking a little breathless as he settles into his usual spot at the end.

“Ready, 10?” the ref asks and Betty nods, her gaze returning to Roz and Midge and Melody and Toni, all weaving in and out of the Milton defensive line. Alexandra, Tina, and Ethel have crept up as close to the action as they can muster, ready to step in if things go south.

The whistle blows and Betty yells “Mel!” before slapping a shot right at her friend, who receives it just in time to pivot and turn toward the circle. Within thirty seconds, Melody has scored the first Riverdale High goal of the season. 

As Betty celebrates with her teammates and heads back to the 50, she can see Jughead on his feet cheering out of the corner of her eye. 

Betty can still feel her heart beating out of her chest as they set back up at starting positions. 

.

.

.

Milton High’s feeble field hockey program has made some slight progress since the year before.

(“Maybe it’s the racist who was holding them back,” Toni quips at half-time.) 

Although Toni scores a goal shortly after Melody, the Milton coach calls an immediate timeout. Whatever she says motivates the Milton team to hold Riverdale off for the rest of the game. 

Still, when the final whistle blows, Riverdale wins, 2-0, another shutout for Trula. Considering their next three games have them competing against much higher-ranked teams, the girls are grateful for this early victory before they descend back into the usual pattern of losing. 

(For years, Betty won’t even remember this game as the second one she played a part in winning. Even as the team celebrates in the post-game huddle, her enthusiasm is clouded by the storm of lust and curiosity and fear raging inside her mind.)

Betty manages to say her farewells to her teammates on the field, keeping all their suggestive jokes about Jughead out of his earshot. Sports bag slung over her shoulder, Betty grips her stick and walks toward the parking lot before any of her friends can stop her. As usual, Jughead stands there in an S t-shirt and his faded red flannel, smirking at her as he leans against the chain link fence, and _wait, how did it take me this long to realize I’m attracted to him_? 

“Nice playing out there, Betts,” he says, pushing off the fence. “Congrats on the win. Do you have some sort of team-bonding ritual you’re obligated to attend now?”

Betty shakes her head, laughing as she watches Trula be the first to escape to her car. “This year’s captain isn’t as big on the bonding,” she explains, laughing.

Jughead laughs heartily, following Betty’s eyeline. “That girl scares me.”

Betty nods, laughing herself. “You’re not the only one.”

“Well, in that case,” Jughead says, lowering his eyes and scuffing his foot in the dirt. “Pop’s?”

“ _Please_ ,” Betty agrees, trying to steady the unfamiliar fluttering in her chest as their fingers brush, walking side by side on their well-trodden route to Pop’s. 

.

.

.

They settle into the corner booth, happy to find the diner fairly populated but not with anyone they’re obligated to say hello to. Before she left Svenson, Betty had declined Toni’s invitation to the drive-in, though she’s glad that Valerie, Melody, and Midge had accepted. Betty wanted to celebrate their win, she really did, but in that moment it had been simply unthinkable to do anything that didn’t involve Jughead. She’s in a daze, and he’s the only one who can possibly help her out of it.

“So, Betty Cooper,” Jughead says, drumming his hands on the table. “How does it feel to win your _first game of the season_?”

Betty laughs heartily at the enthusiasm in his voice, partially to cover up how much his goofy grin makes her want to reach out and cup Jughead’s face in her hands. As it is, his fingers brush hers as he reaches for the menu, checking a price on the back as he absently talks about an intense craving for onion rings he hadn’t been able to shake since waking up that morning. 

Her throat feels dry, and she’s grateful when Pop Tate finally arrives at their table, bringing glasses of water and milkshakes with him.

“Bless you, Pop,” Betty says, sipping the water gratefully.

“They won the first game of the season, Pop!” Jughead brags, Betty smiling at Pop’s enthusiastic congratulations. “Also, can I have my usual, plus onion rings?”

Pop shoots him a questioning look. “I know, I know,” Jughead says. “I have a craving.”

Betty laughs as Pop shrugs exaggeratedly at Jughead before turning to her. “And for you, Betty? I’m sure you worked up an appetite.”

Betty grins. “I really did. Um...can I just get a grilled cheese with fries?” She pushes her milkshake toward her, taking a sip. It’s comforting in a way that many things around Riverdale haven’t been in a long time.

When she looks up again, she realizes Jughead is watching her with a curious smile on his face. She blushes. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jughead says, leaning back in the booth. She watches him stretch out his long arms before averting her eyes toward the window, feigning interest in the strange dance routine a couple of the younger River Vixens are performing in the parking lot. 

Ever since they left Svenson, Betty has felt hyper aware of all their movements, the investigator in her searching for any sign that Jughead’s feelings for her are more-than-platonic. It’s mere data collection for now; Betty knows she’s not even close to ready to reveal these new feelings, terrified Jughead won’t reciprocate. She can’t risk losing her longest and most consistent friendship until she’s _certain_ that he feels the same. (And unlike their investigations at the _Blue and Gold,_ Betty can’t quite plot this one out on the chalkboard to mull over with Jughead at her side.)

Betty glances back at Jughead, grateful to see that he’s focused on his milkshake instead of her. Next on her agenda: how to ask Jughead why he was late to the game without _explicitly_ asking. 

“How was your day?” she tries and he looks a little surprised at the sudden shift in her mood.

“It was pretty good,” he says in a questioning tone, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, watching you guys win was definitely a highlight.”

 _So close_. “Yeah, that was pretty satisfying,” Betty says, clearing her throat. “And I got in a little bit of _Blue and Gold_ scouting on the way to the field. Melody wants to write a monthly column about being Black in Riverdale.”

Jughead smiles. “That sounds like an excellent follow-up to last year’s race issue.”

“I thought committing to a regular discussion of race relations in Riverdale was the least we could do to move the conversation forward,” Betty says, inwardly tingling at the impressed smile on Jughead’s face.

Still, he doesn’t offer any explanation of his own, nothing she can grasp onto that explains away why he was late earlier. 

Jughead sighs, taking a couple long sips of his milkshake before admitting, “I’m having a hard time tracking down Dr. Beaker to find out more about that new robotics team Weatherbee wants us to cover. But I’ll find him, I promise.”

“You should ask Ethel,” Betty suggests. _Does this mean he was looking for Dr. Beaker when he was late? What if he was meeting up with some girl that isn’t me?_ “She takes AP Chem with him, and you know she’s relentless about seeing teachers during office hours when she needs to.”

Jughead laughs. “That’s true. Gotta love that about Ethel. I mean, platonically,” he quickly adds and Betty laughs. 

“You don’t have to worry about _Ethel_ anymore, Jug,” Betty says. “She’s so over that.” She leans in, a little breathless at the closer range. He looks curious. “She’s into Ben Button now,” Betty explains, letting out a faux-dramatic gasp and returning to her usual position.

Jughead bursts out laughing. “When did you become such a gossip?” 

Betty shrugs. “That’s all I’ve got,” she admits. “But...I still don’t think it’s fit to print.”

Jughead nods, adjusting his beanie. “I agree with you on that, Betts.” His mouth drops open with giddy joy as Pop approaches, balancing their plates skillfully in his arms.

“Grilled cheese for my favorite Riverdale Bulldog!” Pop says with a wink and Betty shoots him a warm smile. Even if the whole school forgets that the field hockey team exists, Pop always makes her feel special. 

“And onion rings for Jug,” Pop says with raised eyebrows before dropping down napkins and rushing off to take another order.

“Oh, thank God,” Jughead says. “Between trying to find Dr. Beaker and having to stop at home before your game, I’m hungrier than usual.”

Betty tries to hide the flushed surprise that covers her face and neck. “You stopped at home?” she asks, attempting to sound as uninterested as possible.

He nods. “I forgot my wallet, and I remembered you said you were playing Milton. I wanted to at least have the option to treat you to Pop’s if you won.”

Betty grins. “So does that mean this meal is on you?”

“Don’t milk it, Cooper,” Jughead teases. 

The laughter dies down and they both focus on their food for a couple minutes, Betty’s eyes dropping to her plate. 

“Betty,” Jughead says softly. “Are you okay? You seem...quieter than usual.”

Betty nods, trying her best to act enthusiastic. “Sorry,” she says quickly. “Just...exhausted from all the activity today, I think.”

He seems to accept this answer. “It’s not easy being Betty Cooper, is it?” he jokes.

She sighs in a dramatic manner, something about the teasing lilt to Jughead’s voice bringing her back to reality. _This is your_ best friend. _Chill out, Cooper._ “It’s _so hard_ ,” she jokes.

“By the way, I’m thinking a lunchtime _Blue and Gold_ meeting might be necessary tomorrow,” Jughead says. 

Betty nods quickly, but doesn’t have a chance to say anything more before Archie and Kevin are dropping into their booth.

“Hey, guys!” Kevin says, putting his arm around Betty’s shoulder and squeezing her into an awkward half-hug.

“Hey!” Betty says, and she cringes at how fakely-sweet her voice sounds. “If you’re here to ask about the column…”

Kevin shakes his head, while Archie appears confused from his perch next to Jughead. “Nah, it’s okay, Betty. Unlike _some people_ , I can take a hint.” He shoots Archie a meaningful look and Archie rolls his eyes, grabbing an onion ring off Jughead’s plate. Jughead attempts to slap at his hand but isn’t fast enough. Betty stares between Archie and Kevin, trying to figure out what the fuck either of them are talking about. 

“You can’t beat my reflexes, Jug,” Archie brags around a mouthful of onion, and Betty swears an eight-year-old Archie flashes before her eyes.

“So charming, Archie,” Jughead says sarcastically. 

“Game today?” Archie asks, quick to switch the subject as he nods toward Betty’s jersey.

Betty nods, waiting to swallow a bite of grilled cheese before answering, “First game of the season. We actually won!”

“Oh, wow!” Kevin says. “Has that _ever_ happened before?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Betty says defensively, face flushing. “Last season. Remember? There was a whole scandal about the girl on the opposing team who yelled racist shit at us?”

“Ahhh, yes,” Kevin says. “Sorry, it’s just, the _gossip_ really moves fast around here. That already feels like _old_ _news._ ”

Betty sighs. “Still a ‘no’ on the column, Kev.”

“This is the Internet age, Kevin! Can’t you go all _Gossip Girl_ on your own blog?” Jughead suggests and Kevin rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll consider it,” he says.

Archie is barely listening to anything the three of them are saying, his eyes darting wildly around the restaurant. “You okay, Arch?” Betty asks and Kevin laughs, leaning back in the booth.

“Archie’s in the doghouse,” Kevin explains. Betty and Jughead both stare at Archie, wondering what he did to Veronica this time.

“Oh, fuck, I gotta go!” Archie says in lieu of answering, jumping up from the booth and heading toward the bathroom, where Betty knows there’s also an emergency exit that leads to the back of the restaurant. 

Ten seconds later, the bell on the front door dings and Cheryl and Veronica walk in along with the rest of the junior and senior River Vixens, all wearing their practice suits that are somehow even more revealing than their actual game uniforms. Betty, Kevin, and Jughead all turn to watch, though the group quickly disperses to the other end of the diner without so much as glancing their way. 

Jughead turns back around and exchanges a meaningful look with Betty.

“What’d he do now, Kevin?” Betty asks with an exasperated sigh. 

Kevin shakes his head, stealing a fry off Betty’s plate. “Trust me, you don't even want to know.”

.

.

.

As the oldest of the field hockey juniors, a freshly-licensed Toni has taken to driving Betty home from practice every night. 

Over the summer, Betty and Jughead had actually helped Toni, Fangs, and Sweet Pea transform her uncle’s old car into something that can actually drive. It had been nice to see Jughead actually getting along with some kids who live on his side of town for a change, even if Betty and Toni had to force small talk at the beginning.

The day they finished, the five of them celebrated with a meal at Pop’s, having finished just in time for Toni’s road test the following day. She passed with flying colors and pledged to Betty that she would drive her home from any practice or game she wanted in return for her mechanic services. 

On this particular night, it feels like more of a necessity than a favor. As usual, Toni has agreed to drive some of the younger girls—tonight, the two freshman starters, Roz and Sabrina. Sitting in the passenger seat, Betty can barely wait for Toni to drop the younger girls off so she can finally tell Toni everything. (She’s not ready for the _whole_ team to know this information yet, after all.)

Betty’s mind races and she’s grateful that Toni tries to maintain light chatter with the girls in the backseat. Betty slumps against the window, feigning exhaustion, and tries hard to concentrate on the Passion Pit song playing quietly from the speakers. (Instead of the swirling of emotions and feelings and... _urges_ regarding Jughead that have lodged themselves seemingly permanently in her brain since yesterday afternoon.)

Once Roz and Sabrina have been dropped off at the Spellman Mortuary on the edge of town, Betty can breathe a little easier. The car doors have barely closed behind their younger friends before Toni turns to stare at Betty.

“Something’s up with you, Cooper,” she says, a statement rather than a question. She backs out of the driveway and drives toward the Northside.

Betty sighs, peeling her face away from the window. “You’re right,” she says quietly. “I realized something pretty major yesterday. Actually, right before the game.”

Toni taps her hands against the wheel, nodding. “Ah. You were definitely a little _off_ ,” she notes.

Betty nods. “I knew you’d notice.”

“So…” Toni says, pausing at a stoplight and turning to stare at Betty. “Is this gonna become a game of twenty questions, or are you just gonna tell me the details? Is it something with your parents? Or your Vixen friends?”

Betty shakes her head, bracing for the new world that will open up for her once she’s finally confided this new discovery to someone. The light turns green and Toni returns her eyes to the road.

“I’ve been thinking about what you guys said at camp,” Betty says, keeping her face forward. She knows she’ll lose her nerve if they make eye contact.

Betty sees Toni nod out of the corner of her eye. “Mmhmm,” she says.

“And for some reason it took until yesterday for me to realize it but...I think everyone was actually right. I don’t know when it happened, but I _like_ Jughead.”

First, Toni cheers, her mouth open in joyful surprise. Then, she screeches to the side of the back road they’d been meandering down—which is thankfully mostly empty—before turning to shoot Betty a half-smug, half-impatient look.

“Jesus, Toni,” Betty says, resting a hand against her swiftly-beating heart, even as she recognizes that a part of her is relieved to have finally gotten her newfound crush off her chest.

“Can I say that I’ve known you two were into each other since like, the first time I saw him show up to one of our games?” Toni says indignantly.

Betty feels her face grow hot. “But _how_?” she finds herself blurting out in a desperate voice. “How could you have seen something two whole years ago that I’ve only known for 24 hours?”

Toni shrugs, smiling softly at her. “Sometimes you just need to see something from a different perspective, I guess.”

“I just...don’t know what to do about it. I don’t think I’m ready to tell him yet. Or, I don’t know _how_ to tell him.”

Toni nods sympathetically. “So it goes,” she says. “But hey, it’s only been 24 hours. Give yourself a minute to process.” 

Betty nods. _Easy enough._

Toni continues, “And then, when you feel ready, take him somewhere private and tell him how you feel.”

Betty sighs. “Ugh, Toni. That sounds so scary, though. What would I say? What would _he_ say? What if he doesn’t like me like that, and I’ve ruined my oldest and best friendship?”

Toni shoots her a look of disbelief. “As if Jughead Jones isn’t head over heels in love with you.”

Betty bites her lip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve always been just friends!” 

Toni raises her eyebrows. “I’m just saying, I haven’t seen Archie or Veronica in the stands at every single one of our field hockey games.”

“ _Okay_ , that’s a fair point, but what if he’s just being a good friend? Honestly, he’s _always_ been a better friend than Archie _and_ Veronica!”

Toni laughs loudly and Betty rolls her eyes. 

“Roll your eyes at me all you want, Cooper, but if you’d listened to me back then, you’d be making out with Jones right now instead of riding with me.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Betty’s face flushes as she rests her forehead against the window. She hates that Toni is probably right. Immediately, she pictures herself on the abandoned field, underneath the stands with Jughead, making out against the metal beams. It’s not the first time she’s pictured it since the day before.

In Betty’s silence, Toni starts the car again and pulls back onto the road. Betty watches the houses pass outside as they drive north toward Elm Street, picking at her nails while Toni bobs her head to the music. 

“You’ll be okay, Cooper,” Toni says after a minute. “We’ll make sure of it, okay?”

.

.

.

That Friday after practice, Toni drives the two of them out to the watering hole most of the Southsiders frequent on the quarry in an effort to avoid classist Northsiders on the banks of Sweetwater River. Toni understood, without Betty having to verbalize it, that Betty’s not quite ready to tell their other friends about her crush.

Toni takes puffs on the little one-hitter she leaves stashed in her trunk. Betty has never taken Toni up on her open invitation to smoke weed, though these days she’s thinking she might cave sooner rather than later.

It’s quiet for awhile, both of them sitting with their feet swinging over the edge.

“You really think he.. _.like_ likes me?” Betty asks, voice cracking as she looks up at the night sky, so much clearer out here than it is on Elm Street.

“‘Like like?’” Toni laughs. “What, are we in seventh grade?”

Betty blushes. “It’s not that simple!” she insists. “It’s not like this is some guy I just met and now have a crush on. We have so much _history_. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he does and it doesn’t work out?”

Toni sighs, leaning back. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t think about all these things,” she says. “You should take all the time you feel like you need. But Betty...don’t wait too long.”

Betty shrugs. “I’ll try,” she says, but she doesn’t have much confidence in herself. She pauses for a second then says, “Hey, Toni?”

“Yeah, Betty?” She turns to look at her, eyes soft.

“You know, you’re a catch. Any girl...or guy-”

“-I’d prefer it’d be a girl, but yes both are acceptable,” Toni interjects, and they both laugh.

“Right...as I was saying, any guy or preferably girl would be lucky to have you,” Betty finishes, grinning at her friend.

“Aww, Coop,” Toni says, resting her head playfully on Betty’s shoulder. “Are you hitting on me?”

Betty’s face flames red. “God, Toni. One deeply-seated crush for a close friend at a time. Sheesh.” Toni bursts into a fit of giggles. 

“Okay, okay, I’m stoned,” Toni says once she catches her breath. “We’re gonna have to wait here awhile, till I’m good to drive us back.”

Betty smiles, shoving off her sandals and leaning back into the grass to get a little more comfortable. She thinks about her mom, probably hate-watching reality TV and drinking wine. She’ll be asleep soon with the aid of those pesky sleeping pills. “That’s more than okay,” she murmurs.

Toni frowns knowingly. “I figured it would be.”

.

.

.

All September, Betty treads carefully, attempting to hype herself up to tell Jughead how she feels. She doesn’t even have to go out of her way to hang out with Jughead. After all, between sharing most of their classes and spending time editing the _Blue and Gold_ together, Betty’s days have long been filled with hours of uninterrupted Jughead time. 

Betty finds herself inviting Jughead to eat with her in the newspaper office more often than their usual two sessions a week. Easy enough, seeing as Jughead is also eager to forgo the crowded lunch table. (Especially when it becomes clear that Veronica and Archie arestill _off_. Although they’d never quite received an explanation for Archie’s swift escape during the first week of school, Kevin does fill them in a little: Archie had ended things with Veronica on the first day of school, after an extended summer fling that apparently sparked at a senior Bulldog’s graduation party. Tension is bad enough, but tension they only half understand? _No thank you_.)

Besides, Betty and Jughead have plenty to work on in the newspaper office, seeing as Principal Weatherbee put a damper on their first issue plans on the second day of school. He firmly announced that Betty and Jughead would have free rein for the remainder of the year, so long as they center the October issue around Riverdale history to impress a number of wealthy graduates expected to return for the homecoming football game. (“We’re so close to our fundraising goal for that new scoreboard,” Principal Weatherbee said, gazing longingly out the window toward the football field, Betty nudging Jughead with her elbow as he barely suppressed a groan.)

So getting Jughead alone isn’t exactly the issue. It’s all about her sudden inability to say the words on the tip of her tongue. Usually, Betty Cooper isn’t one to back down from a challenge. She prides herself on her ability to push through her anxiety. But seeing Jughead Jones in this new, romantic—and if her most recent nighttime routine is any indication, sexual—light has thoroughly stumped her. 

On the second week of school, Betty almost falls over while balancing on a footstool to reach a file from the top shelf in the newspaper office. Jughead jumps up to break her fall, and she feels her face grow hot, every little touch burning on her skin. 

“Thanks,” she says, her tongue suddenly dry and heavy in her mouth.

“No worries, Betts,” he says, voice a little confused even as he flashes her his usual friendly grin. 

He releases her too quickly, and Betty hates how long it takes her to recover. She ducks under the thick blue binding of the 1950 yearbook to hide her reddening face. 

.

.

.

“This is honestly pathetic, Cooper,” Toni says, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as they wait for Melody and Valerie to disappear into Valerie’s house. 

“Geez, don’t sugarcoat it, Toni,” Betty says as Toni pulls back out of the driveway.

“Another week has come and gone and where are we?” Toni counters.

Betty sighs, leaning against the car window. “Hey, my drive at practice today was pretty solid.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, great progress on the field. And yet, Jughead still doesn’t know you think about him in the shower,” Toni says, clearly relishing in the blush that deepens on Betty’s cheeks.

“I’m no good at this, Toni,” she says, unable to argue with Toni’s teasing. “I’ve never pursued _anyone_ , let alone my oldest friend.”

“It’s not the easiest thing in the world. But I think you’ll know when the moment feels right, Betty,” Toni says, and Betty nods. 

“Okay. Like, a woman’s intuition type of thing?”

Toni laughs. “Sure, Cooper.” She turns up the Say Anything song blaring from her car—they both know all the words to this one—and Betty’s grateful to spend the next few minutes screaming emo lyrics into the early evening air. 

.

.

.

Betty keeps imagining scenarios in her head—most of them admittedly reminiscent of various rom coms she’s devoured over the years, crowded on the rec room couch with Polly or perched on Veronica’s duvet. Her mind is constantly going, drafting romantic speeches or searching for a place so significant that Jughead would somehow know exactly what she wanted to say the minute they arrived. All day long they run through her head, an endless supply of fantastical ways this story could end. She wishes some writer’s room could swoop in and ensure that their first kiss is nothing short of perfect. That she doesn't trip over her words. That the moment feels, as Toni said it would, _right._ (That he feels the same way she does.)

Nevertheless, in the third week of school, with a little extra encouragement from Toni, Betty tries again—not once, not twice, but three times. 

On Tuesday night, Betty invites Jughead to work in the _Blue and Gold_ office after practice, thinking the setting where they spend so much time alone could lend her some courage. But she chickens out when their favorite custodian pops by to remind them to clear out by 9 PM, leaving her hands shaking and her heart beating out of her chest. _What if he’d walked in when I was trying to confess my feelings? What if he comes back? No way._

On Wednesday night, she texts Jughead to meet up at Pop’s under the guise of completing their AP Euro homework together. Her ill-fated attempt to share a milkshake with Jug as a means of confessing her feelings quickly fails—when Pop delivers the single chocolate milkshake with a wink, Jughead immediately orders Betty a strawberry one. 

“Can’t believe he’d forget your order, Betty. So unlike him,” he says, clueless, as Betty flushes red and hides her face in her history textbook. 

On Friday in AP English Lit, the teacher has barely told them to partner up for an oral presentation before Betty’s turning around in her seat, excitedly asking Jughead to work with her. His bewildered face makes her blush and she can see Toni trying not to laugh out of the corner of her eye as Jughead says, “Yeah, of course!” in a confused voice. 

Three for three.

At least the team had moved on from teasing Betty to teasing Midge, as Fangs had started showing up to practices and games, waiting around afterwards to flirt with Midge. They’d been at the very least acquaintances since the year before, when Toni enlisted her tech-savvy best friend to help Midge access a textbook online. And ever since her break-up with Moose, Midge had spent more and more time hanging around the Southside smoking weed with Toni.

Considering the way Midge lights up when Fangs greets her after practice on Friday evening, it seems like it’ll only be a matter of time before the pair makes it Facebook-official. Betty climbs into Toni’s passenger seat, trying not to look too bitter as she watches Midge hop onto Fangs’ motorcycle and speed out of the parking lot. 

“They’re cute, huh?” Toni says, throwing her field hockey stick in the backseat and shutting the door behind her. For once, none of the little ones need a ride, and she quickly backs out of her trusty parking spot.

“Yeah,” Betty says softly, looking out the window. Her dreams are filled with images of riding on the back of Jughead’s bike again, of the way his soft lips might feel against hers. 

Toni frowns at her friend. “Still no luck finding the right moment, huh?” she says sadly.

Betty shakes her head. “Easier said than done, I guess,” she says.

“True that,” Toni says. “Well, maybe you’ve been too public with it. You know, school and Pop’s aren’t exactly the most _private_ locales in town. We have that home game next week against Centerville. Take him somewhere more private afterwards.” 

Betty smiles, thinking of their long summertime walks. “That might not be the worst idea,” she says.

Sure enough, after the game the following week, Betty convinces Jughead to “soak up one of our last 70-degree days” with a long walk before they plunge fully into the autumn cold. 

They laugh about their AP Euro teacher and try to make sense of the latest cryptic info they’ve gotten from Archie regarding his relationship status with Veronica. Betty has almost forgotten about her goal for this journey, so at ease with Jug, until they reach their would-be destination to find that their favorite abandoned bus stop has been bulldozed, part of some Southside beautification project. 

Suffice it to say, Betty does not take that as a particularly good sign, and she clams up once again.

.

.

.

October comes, bringing with it the end of the countdown they started over the summer.

“I’ve never been this excited about my birthday,” Jughead quips on the morning of October 1st, bouncing on the balls of his feet as they stand at his locker chatting before homeroom. Thinking of their basically-nonexistent plans, Betty snorts. She can’t think of anyone who could care less than Jughead that his seventeenth birthday falls on a Saturday. 

“What time is your road test tomorrow?” Betty checks, though she’s pretty sure she knows the answer: _3 PM at the DMV in Greendale._

“3 PM,” Jughead says, sighing and leaning his forehead against the locker door. “I’m kinda nervous. But on the bright side, FP was actually awake this morning _and_ he remembered he has to drive me to the DMV tomorrow.”

Betty raises her eyebrows in surprise as Jughead pulls his last book out of his locker and slams it shut. “Wow,” she says. “If that’s not a good omen, I don’t know what is.”

“Knock on wood and say a prayer for me, Betts,” Jughead says as they walk toward homeroom, arms brushing and setting off another daydream about cruising with Jughead in FP’s blue truck.

.

.

.

Betty expects a phone call or a text message from Jughead to update her on the results of his road test. What she doesn’t expect is a honking horn outside her house. She opens the front door to find Jughead grinning at her from the driver’s seat of FP’s truck. 

“Oh my God!” she yells, quickly running across the lawn despite her bare feet. She’s never been more grateful for Alice’s habit of working at the _Register_ on Saturdays. “You passed?!”

She stops at the curb, arms hanging over the rolled-down window as she grins at him. 

Jughead triumphantly holds up a laminated card, a beanieless Jughead smiling nervously in the corner. “I am, indeed, a newly-licensed driver in the state of New York!” Jughead declares and Betty squeals.

“Congratulations, Jug!” she says, her heart skipping a beat at the grateful smile he shoots her.

“Well, what are you standing out there for?” Jughead says. “Let’s go for a drive!”

Betty laughs. “Yes!” She moves to open the truck door before realizing she’s not wearing shoes. “Wait, let me grab some footwear. And your birthday present.”

Jughead groans, though there’s a spark in his eye. “You didn’t have to get me a present, Betty!” he calls after her as she runs back into the house.

Inside her room, Betty tries to catch her breath as she runs a brush through her hair. She frowns at herself in the mirror, unsure what she’s even looking for. She shakes her head and whispers, “It’s just Jughead” before grabbing her gift off the window seat. 

Still, Betty can’t help but pause to glance toward Archie’s window, a leftover habit from childhood. Suddenly she remembers the three of them as ten-year-olds, helping Fred fix up his classic car and fantasizing about what car they would drive when they turned seventeen. She doesn’t see Archie in his room, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. As she turns to leave her room, Betty scrolls through her contact list and calls Archie. 

He picks up on the third ring. “Betty?” he asks with a confused tone, and she can immediately tell he’s not alone from the background noise.

“Hey, Arch,” she says, suddenly wondering if this was an awful idea. “Where are you?”

“I’m at Ronnie’s!” he says. _‘Ronnie?’ Are they back together now? I can’t keep up._ “Why, what’s up?”

“One sec.” Betty pauses to lock her front door, waving to Jughead as she jogs across the lawn, tote bag swinging on her arm. She puts the phone on speaker as she climbs in the passenger seat and says loudly, “Archie, I’m just getting in the truck with Jughead! He got his license today!”

Jughead shakes his head and mouths, “Traitor.” She sticks her tongue out at him in response.

“Oh my God. Today’s your birthday, Jug, isn’t it?” Archie says, his voice sounding genuinely guilty. (To be fair, Archie hasn’t been particularly reliable about checking Facebook since early 2009, and that was the only way he ever remembered anyone’s birthday.)

“Yep!” Betty says. “We’re gonna celebrate by going for a drive! Do you wanna come with us? I was thinking of asking Veronica and Kevin and Cheryl too, so if they’re there, we could come pick you all up at the Pembrooke!”

Jughead nods, giving her a thumbs up, a signal that she’d guessed correctly which guests he would approve of riding in his vehicle. 

“Um…” Archie says, and Betty’s stomach pinches with disappointment. _Why did I even get my hopes up that they’d come along?_ “We _are_ all here, with Reggie and Moose and some of the other guys. We’re pregaming for a party at Chuck’s.”

“Ah,” Betty says, shooting a look at Jughead who just leans back against his seat in exasperation. 

“You guys can totally come, though!” Archie says. “We can celebrate Jughead’s birthday!” As if suddenly remembering his best friend hates his birthday, Archie then hastily adds, “But it won’t actually be a party _for_ Jughead’s birthday.” Every now and then, a glimpse of who Archie used to be manages to bleed through, reminding Betty that Archie is just a teenage boy with good intentions and awful execution.

Betty turns to look at Jughead. “It’s your birthday,” she mouths.

“Archie,” Jughead says firmly. “You of all people know that a party is the last place I’d want to be on my birthday.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Archie says sadly. “I’m really sorry, guys. I hope you have fun!”

They hear cheering in the background and a girl’s voice saying “who is that?” before Archie yells a hurried, “Happy birthday, bro! Love you guys!” and hangs up.

Betty closes her phone and throws it into her tote bag, turning to face Jughead. “Birthday off to a predictable start,” he quips. 

Betty shrugs. “We don’t need them.” She reaches down into her tote bag. “Besides, you haven’t opened your gift yet.” She passes him a tiny square package, wrapped in her mom’s craft paper and tied with a black ribbon, which felt appropriate for Jughead’s feelings toward his birthday.

Jughead sighs and huffs something under his breath about “not needing a gift” but she can tell from the way he lowers his eyes and smirks that he’s pleased. It fills her with hope, even if she made a pact with herself earlier not to do anything tonight. (He _hates_ his birthday. Feels like a no-go for confessing life-changing romantic feelings.)

Jughead tries to carefully untie the ribbon and Betty laughs. “You can rip it, Jug. At this rate, we’ll never hit the open road.”

“I was just trying to keep intact this insanely-good wrapping job you did,” he insists and she giggles as he finally rips through the paper like Betty knows he was dying to.

He looks both shocked and pleased as he turns over the jewel CD case in his hands. She’d glued a track listing to the front, typed out with one of the old typewriters from the _Blue and Gold_ office: _Jughead’s Inaugural Car Mix_.

“You made me a mix?” Jughead says, an excited grin on his face that lights up Betty’s insides.

She nods. “I know I’m no musical genius like you,” she says sarcastically, relishing in his laugh. “But I figured it’s high time I returned the favor. And you need some road tunes now that you’re a licensed driver.”

Jughead’s eyes scan her meticulously-curated track list before lifting to meet Betty’s expectant face. “I love it,” he says. “Thank you so much, Betts.”

“Happy birthday, Jug,” Betty says, and she can hear the emotion in her voice so she clears her throat awkwardly. “So. Where should we go?”

* * *

Jughead has imagined this very scenario about a million times over the past year: the day when he’d be sitting at the wheel, an excited Betty Cooper to his right, bobbing her head to the music blaring from the speakers as they drive and drive and drive across endless ribbons of road. And yet, he’d never quite imagined a destination. 

He shrugs at Betty’s question as he throws the truck into drive. “I kind of like the idea of not knowing where we’re going,” he says, checking his mirrors and pulling out onto the street. 

Betty seems satisfied with this answer, remarking cheekily, “Whatever you want, Jug. You _are_ the birthday boy, after all.” 

She pops her CD in for him as he makes his way back toward the main street. “So, how’d you get FP to let you borrow the truck?” she asks.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s been pretty…” He tries to figure out what words will convey his dad’s continued downward spiral without causing too much alarm. “...up and down lately. But today he was in surprisingly high spirits. He was ready right on time to drive me to the road test, and as soon as I came out of the DMV with my license, he insisted I take the truck out tonight.” He blushes, remembering FP’s heavy-handed comments about “being careful if you and Betty go _park somewhere_.” 

“Weird,” Betty says. “But I guess take it as a birthday gift?”

Jughead grins as an Animal Collective song starts playing. “Okay, Betty,” he says. “Your mix is already more than acceptable.”

Betty pumps her fist in the air. “ _Yes_!”

As Jughead takes random rights and lefts at each intersection, Betty pulls the windows down, letting the wind whip their hair as she sings along to the music. He’s quite sure he could be happy doing this, and not much else. Stopped at a red light, he takes a minute to watch Betty: her ponytail is looser than usual, the excitement on her face replacing the worry lines. He wants her to be like this all the time.

Lately, she’s seemed really on edge. He’d chalked it up initially to the stress of junior year—they both plan to take the SATs in the spring and Jughead’s sure Alice has been on her case about studying, on top of all her usual responsibilities. But in the last few days, he’s started to wonder if maybe something else is going on. She’s been stumbling over her words—very uncharacteristic—and he could be making it up, but the way she looks at him lately...it’s been making his heart race even more than usual.

“So, how was the road test?” Betty asks as the light turns green.

“It was pretty easy,” Jughead says and Betty snorts.

“‘Easy?’ Really? Are you some sort of driving prodigy?”

Jughead shrugs. “I don’t know, Betts, you tell me. Did I not once drive you to safety aboard my dad’s motorcycle?”

Betty laughs, and he tries not to get too distracted by the memory of that same laugh cascading through the night air the year before as she held on tight to his waist. He keeps his eyes stubbornly on the road, trying to wrack his brain for a destination. He almost takes a quick right to buy himself more time, but then Betty says, “Wait, don’t turn there.”

Jughead immediately complies; he’s not embarrassed to say he trusts Betty with his life. Nevertheless, he squints to read the street sign as they pass it. 

“Ah,” he says. “Chuck’s street?”

“Precisely,” Betty says. “No need to witness drunk Archie and Veronica fighting on the front lawn or some shit.”

Jughead laughs. “Or, if we swing by a little later, they’ll already be making out somewhere far too public.”

Betty shakes her head, giggling along with him. “I can’t believe those two have been doing this for...what...” She starts counting on her fingers: “...seventh grade, eighth grade, ninth grade, tenth grade, eleventh...five years! God.” She leans her head back against the seat. “So glad I got over that stupid crush on Archie ages ago.”

Jughead manages to curb his instinct to smile far too wide. “Yeah,” he says, coughing. “Hey. I think I have an idea of where to go.”

“Oh, yeah?” She turns to smile at him. “Where?”

“You’ll see,” Jughead replies, laughing when she protests for a couple minutes before conceding again that he’s the birthday boy.

“Turn the music up,” Jughead says when she goes quiet again.

She looks pleased, reaching forward to adjust the volume. “You like it?”

He nods, grinning. “You done good, Coop.”

She smiles in his direction before turning to look out the window as they pass through Fox Forest. This road was always FP’s favorite to zoom down on the bike; driving down it now makes getting his license feel more real.

“This is pretty awesome, huh?” Jughead says to Betty and she nods.

“It’s so...freeing,” she says, and he can’t agree more.

Finally, they reach the spot he’d had in mind: an oft-overlooked swimming hole about a mile from where most Riverdale families go to swim in Sweetwater River. He slides into the very same parking spot where FP always parked the truck when the Jones family went swimming. It looks desolate, but if you know where to walk, in only a minute you’ll emerge into a clearing where a seemingly endless amount of wildflowers grow.

They climb out of the car, Jughead pulling out the blanket his dad stashes in the trunk. Betty looks at him with a sideways smile and says, “You’re full of surprises, Jug.”

He grins. “It’ll be worth it, trust me,” he says before leading her down the familiar path. Betty’s expression visibly softens when she finally catches a glimpse at the clearing, which is thankfully as unoccupied as Jughead had hoped it would be.

“Wow,” Betty says, awe in her voice that makes Jughead feel satisfied with his choice. “I’ve never been here before.” 

Jughead smiles. “I figured. It was Gladys’ favorite spot. Because of all the wildflowers. We used to come here...when things were good.” He spreads the blanket out at the edge of the water, sitting down and watching Betty run her hand along the wildflowers: pinks and yellows and whites bobbing amidst the overgrown grass.

“You like it?” he asks, his voice cracking a little.

She turns to gaze at Jughead again with a jerk of the head that makes Jughead think she’d momentarily forgotten he was there. She quickly moves to join him on the blanket. “Do you miss your mom?” she asks, the last thing he expected her to say.

He shrugs, looking away from her and instead at the dapples of sunshine bouncing off the water. “I miss the Gladys who would pick wildflowers and cannon-ball into the swimming hole,” he says. “But that version of my mom was gone long before she left for Toledo.”

Betty nods sadly, folding her fingers into her palms. “But now _you_ can drive us here instead,” she says. “Make new memories?”

Jughead smiles. “Exactly.”

“Maybe Archie can join us next time,” Betty offers and Jughead snorts. She shrugs. “You gotta have some hope.”

“Yes,” Jughead says laughing. “ _You_ do, for the both of us.”

Betty laughs heartily. “Well, you were sounding pretty positive about that road test.”

Jughead nods. “It just ended up being so much more natural and quick than I expected,” he explains.

“So the parallel parking didn’t trip you up?” Betty asks. “That’s what I’m most nervous about.”

“Nah, I’ve actually never really had trouble with parallel parking,” he admits.

“Ugh, I’m so jealous,” Betty says, spreading her legs out across the blanket. “I’m _shit_ at parking. And Alice keeps putting off taking me to practice. I’m afraid parallel parking will be my downfall in the spring.”

Jughead frowns. “Well, I know it’s not technically ‘legal’ per se, but I’d be happy to teach you.” He tries not to sound too eager as he adds, “I mean, we can’t have Betty Cooper failing her road test.”

Betty lights up. “Oh, would you, Jug?”

“Of course, Betts,” he says, offering his pinky. “Promise.” Their fingers lock briefly and Jughead swears his entire body tingles after just the one touch.

As they separate, Betty turns to stare at the water, murmuring, “It’s so beautiful here.” She pauses. “Wait, isn’t there just one thing missing from this Jones birthday celebration—food?” 

It makes him laugh how incredulous her voice sounds. “I have sandwiches and snacks in the trunk,” Jughead admits.

Betty turns to him with a look on her face that he could only describe as lovingly amused. “You’re the best,” she says, eyes lingering on him for a moment. 

Once again, Jughead wishes he had the courage to say what he’s wanted to say for two years now: _I like you as more than friends. I want to kiss you._ But he already hates his birthday, and he doesn’t think adding “rejected by the love of my life” to the list of reasons why is a good idea. So instead, he excuses himself to retrieve provisions from the back of the truck, takes a minute to collect himself, and returns to the clearing to find Betty gathering wildflowers.

* * *

Betty feels like she’s bursting. The hug they share when he drops her off at the end of the night feels so heavy and heated and she can’t tell if it’s just her who feels it. 

He releases her, and she swears her legs feel like jelly. “Happy birthday, Jughead,” she says quietly, afraid her voice betrays her emotions.

“See you Monday, Betts,” Jughead says, watching her until the door closes. 

She stops to catch a last glimpse at him out the living room window, at the slow way he ambles back down her front walk and climbs into the truck. He sits there for a minute before finally driving away. Before Alice can intercept her, Betty runs up to her room, dropping her half-hearted bouquet of wildflowers on the desk and peeling off her clothes. They smell like Jughead.

In bed, Betty’s hands instinctively sneak into her soft pink pajamas. She shuts her eyes and circles her clit with her thumb, her mind wandering back to the swimming hole, to what she wanted Jughead to do to her on that blanket. The way he threw his neck back when he laughed, Betty longed to reach forward and pepper kisses along it, to push his beanie off his head and grab eagerly at tufts of soft hair, to finally know what his mouth would feel like pushing against hers.

The daydream comes to its predictable end—Jughead’s hand replacing her own underneath her underwear, fingers pinching her nipples. Every night it’s the same. She pictures their most recent interaction and creates the fastest storyline that leads to Jughead pleasuring her where she wants him most. 

Betty brings herself to orgasm within a few minutes, her face flushed with a strange guilt she feels each time she does this to the thought of her best friend instead of some faceless random person like she used to. Betty sighs, trying to get comfortable in bed. She needs to get her plan under control sooner rather than later. 

* * *

The following Thursday, Jughead sits on the metal bleachers, cupping his hand over his eyes to block out the sun. Betty and the rest of the Riverdale High team are on the defense, attempting to keep the dominant Stonewall Prep team from scoring yet another goal.

Jughead had never been more sure he’s in love with Betty Cooper than when he was sitting on that blanket on his birthday. She picked wildflowers and fashioned flower chains, draping them around Jughead’s wrists and neck. They ate and laughed and talked about their usual endless supply of topics until it got dark. Until Betty stood up, dusting off her pants as he attempted to avert his eyes, saying with a deep sigh “we better get home before Alice notices I’m still gone.”

It was basically his definition of a perfect birthday. Well...almost perfect. Maybe if he’d somehow summoned the courage to kiss Betty. The way she’d been smiling at him sitting on that blanket had made him wonder...and yet in the end, he’d chickened out. But every night since, Jughead has laid in his bed thinking of other ways they could’ve passed the time in that clearing, if only he’d been brave enough to make a move.

His phone buzzes loudly in his pocket and Jughead groans. He knows without even looking that it’s Jellybean; the only other person who ever texts him is currently setting up for a penalty shot on the field below. He pulls his phone out and scans the series of texts coming in from Jellybean, the latest update on their estranged parents’ rollercoaster ride of a relationship.

The pure, unadulterated happiness from his birthday had quickly faded. Even getting his license and a near-perfect day with Betty couldn’t assuage the horror that was unleashed on October 2nd, 2010. Apparently Gladys had _actually_ called the Jones trailer trying to say “happy birthday” to Jughead while he was still out with Betty. FP was home though, and his parents ended up talking on the phone for hours. It seems just talking to Gladys alone had the immediate effect of forcing FP even farther down his spiral. Yesterday, when Jughead came home from school, FP was passed out on the couch even though their wall calendar had him working at that time. 

FP and Gladys had been talking nearly every day since his birthday, just another round of his parents’ endless game as they flirt with the idea of returning to each other. But Gladys always does something to piss FP off or make him feel insecure, something that drives him to the bottle after he hangs up the phone. Or maybe he’s just nervous, in the same way Jughead gets nervous around Betty. Jughead isn’t sure; he just knows that the image of FP passed out on the couch always comes to mind before he refuses a drink.

Today, Jughead had resisted the urge to stop at home to check on FP, already hating that he lied to Betty about being late to her game last month. It’s true Jughead left his wallet at home that day, but he’d been more concerned his dad would steal the cash he’d just taken out at the ATM—sure enough, two twenty-dollar bills he’d been hoping to save for later in the year were missing and so was FP, though thankfully without the truck or bike. 

Somehow, Jughead is again back to parenting his dad himself, though FP had at least realized he couldn’t try to lunge at Jughead anymore, not after Jughead’s summer working construction had beefed him up. Not when they stand eye to eye these days. 

The ref’s whistle pierces the air, and Jughead’s head jerks up, pulled back into the game. He slips his phone back into his pocket and squints toward the field, where the teams are resetting. It looks like Stonewall Prep just scored another goal. Betty jogs it in, a freshman player she’d introduced as Sabrina tapping sticks with her as she runs to sub in.

Jughead watches as Betty pulls her mask up and squirts water into her mouth, wiping her brow. She passes the water bottle to a teammate, and then looks up into the stands, hand cupped over her forehead. She spots him and waves, a smile overtaking her face. He waves back, grinning. 

It’s over too soon, Betty turning back around as one of her teammates squeezes her shoulder. On the field, Toni retakes possession of the ball, and the group of girls on the sidelines starts screaming. He can hear Betty’s passionate “You got this, T!” distinctively even from where he’s sitting.

He sighs, watching Betty jump up and down on the side of the field, and wondering yet again about saying goodbye on Saturday night. There had been a single, breathless moment after they pulled back from their embrace, when Jughead swore Betty hesitated just as much as he did, her eyes darting toward his lips. It had ended so quickly he isn’t sure if he imagined it. He thinks again of his parents, how they’d probably been talking on the phone still when he’d taken a minute in the truck to digest what had just maybe, almost happened between him and Betty Cooper.

(Much later, he’ll return to this moment. He’ll shake his head much more cynically as he realizes that while he was obsessing over whether Betty wanted Jughead to kiss her, FP and Gladys had been putting in motion the very events that would make sure he couldn’t find out any time soon.)

.

.

.

A week later, it’s already crunch time for their first issue of the _Blue and Gold._ They have one more source to track down for their last unfinished Weatherbee-assigned article before they’re finally free of “this _creative prison_ ,” as Betty coined while they were in their most delirious and dramatic state yet the weekend before. (Nothing beats over-caffeinated newspaper sessions with Betty in a Pop’s diner booth past midnight on a weekend.)

Now, Betty and Jughead sit at one end of their usual lunch table, running through Betty’s latest checklist—titled “ _One Week Till Print To Do List”_ in Betty’s adorable handwriting. 

“Oh, Jug, did Dilton ever get back to you with a final draft of the column?”

Jughead face palms. “Ugh, no! He told me he’d give it to me…” he thinks for a second. “Yesterday. Goddamit, he totally slipped away from me super fast after chemistry today, too. Bet he’s slacking.”

Betty laughs. “If you need me to, I can ask Ethel for help. I’m not really sure what exactly her relationship with Dilton or Ben is at this point, but I know she has pull with the G&G crowd.”

Jughead shudders but says, “Okay, I’ll let you know if it comes to that.”

This is easily Jughead’s favorite part of any school day, just working with Betty and getting the visual reminder that they make a great team. 

Betty opens her mouth, seemingly to talk about the next item on her list—taking a second pass at Jughead’s story on the Clayton family’s Riverdale High football legacy, undoubtedly to ensure he doesn’t sound too sarcastic—when Veronica, Archie, Cheryl, and Kevin all arrive in a group, dropping down rather dramatically around Betty and Jughead. 

Jughead shoots Betty an annoyed look and she tries to give their friends a polite smile, but Jughead knows Betty well enough to know that she, too, is itching to return to their checklist rather than deal with declining whatever social event is about to be discussed at length.

“What’s up, guys?” Betty tries weakly and Jughead shoots her a sympathetic smile. It really impresses him the level to which Betty still tries with their friends, who he basically treats as acquaintances at this point who he’s willing to sit with at lunch and say “happy birthday” to out of equal parts habit, nostalgia, and loyalty to Betty Cooper and Fred Andrews.

“We are doing _great_ ,” Kevin says, bobbing his head enthusiastically.

“The best party of the year is happening this weekend!” Veronica gushes as she pulls out the sushi she brings for lunch most days.

“Have fun,” Jughead says dryly and Betty laughs heartily. _Score_.

“Betty, we can drink margaritas in the Mantles’ hot tub, it’ll be a fabulous time,” Veronica insists, focusing all her energy on a squirming Betty. Jughead frowns at her palms, clenched tighter and tighter around her pen and highlighter. 

“It’ll be fun, seriously, guys,” Archie says, giving Jughead a friendly pat on the shoulder. It’s strange; it had been nice to “reconnect” with Archie that summer, working side by side on the construction site and crashing on the air mattress on hot evenings like the old days. Yet, even then Jughead acknowledged how surface-level and stilted their conversation felt compared to the way it once flowed. Now that they’re well into October, Archie feels as far away as ever.

“Oh, Archiekins,” Veronica says, turning to look at him with a little blush on her face. “You should totally wear that gray shirt you wore to your dad’s birthday dinner.”

Archie blushes. “Oh, really? You think so?”

Cheryl rolls her eyes and Kevin seems to be watching them closely. Jughead frowns. From what Jughead can tell, Veronica and Archie are flirting with each other but not touching; maybe Veronica’s trying to get back together with him? Who knows anymore. Kevin had finally taken Jughead up on his advice to start a blog of his own; it had been a great relief to no longer have to field Kevin’s requests to write a gossip column for the paper. In Kevin’s latest blog post, he revealed that Veronica’s brief fling with her dad’s associate’s son, Elio Grande, had fizzled out almost as quickly as it started. Betty told him this yesterday; Jug hadn’t even realized they were involved.

Around them, everyone seems to be discussing what they’ll be wearing and who will be going and where they’ll be pregaming. Betty is silent, eyes trailing their checklist, and Jughead knows she must wish they’d chosen to eat in the newspaper office today. At least, that’s definitely what _he’s_ thinking.

“So, Betty,” Veronica says, cutting off the chatter with her firm tone. “Are you gonna come on Saturday night? You can get ready with me.”

Betty shakes her head immediately, a nervous look on her face. “Nah, I’m good. I have a ton of things to do this weekend between the newspaper and field hockey. But thanks for the invite.”

“Oh, come _on_ , Betty!” Kevin whines. “We miss you! You never come out with us!”

Betty shrugs. “I don’t drink. I’m sorry! We should do something that doesn’t involve alcohol sometime.”

Jughead tries not to laugh at the look of horror on Cheryl and Kevin’s faces. “D.A.R.E. really brainwashed you, Betty,” Cheryl says.

“D.A.R.E. is horribly flawed, actually,” Jughead says, getting ready to go into a rant about comprehensive drug education, but Cheryl cuts him off before he can even begin.

“And yet, we all experienced it and you two turned out disgustingly straightedge,” Cheryl says in her signature venomous tone.

“Cheryl!” Betty snaps back. “Shut up.” 

Jughead turns red, shoving his headphones over his ears. Technically no one but Betty or Archie ever knew about his dad’s alcoholism, but still. Archie wasn’t exactly sticking up for Jughead, now was he?

He tunes everyone out for the next ten minutes, letting an old mix play. He doesn’t look up again until he feels a gentle nudge on his hand. It’s Betty, smiling at him. He pulls his headphones down and realizes everyone else has left.

“The coast is finally clear,” Betty says, and Jughead laughs. “Sorry Cheryl was being shitty. You were right to just tune it out.”

Jughead shoots her a weak smile. “Yeah.” He taps his fingers on the table, Betty still smiling at him expectantly in the silence. “So,” he says, clicking his tongue. “You gonna go along to the ‘party of the year?’”

Betty shakes her head, sending him such an incredulous look that Jughead wonders if there’s something deeper going on there. “How many times do I need to tell you and Archie and Veronica and everyone else that I _don’t_ want to go to parties for you all to understand?” She laughs, but there’s a hard edge to her voice. When he doesn’t say anything, she continues, “It’s like, because I’m blonde or Polly Cooper’s sister or something, I’m expected to what...want to go to parties every single weekend to drink alcohol and hook up with whatever guy decides to slobber all over me? It’s so not me.”

Jughead turns red. _Really glad to hear that_ , he can’t help but think. “It’s not...I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to like, say you _have_ to want to go. I just...wanted to make sure you weren’t not going...because of me, or anything. Because, I mean, if you really wanted to go and needed a buddy, I’d suck it up for you. I could last at _least_ an hour.”

Betty chuckles and shoots him a warm smile. “I appreciate that. But that’s really not the case. You and I just happen to share a distaste of high school parties.” She pauses for a second. “I do have my hopes for college parties, though.”

Jughead nods solemnly. “Oh, same. Parties beyond Riverdale will definitely be far classier than whatever is going down at Reggie’s on Saturday.”

Betty shrugs. “Or, if not classier, at least with people we like more.”

Jughead nods. “I could dig that.”

“And for the record, I was mostly talking about all the jock-y guys who say gross things to me when they invite me to their parties,” Betty says, rolling her eyes and flipping her ponytail over her shoulder before smoothing out her checklist. She looks down at her watch and without missing a beat, switches course: “Hey, we have five minutes till the bell. Wanna run down more of this checklist?”

“Of course,” Jughead says, smiling as he watches her relax, scanning to find where they’d left off and making a little mark with her pen. 

For some reason, he feels hope for the first time in a long time.

* * *

Betty’s been agonizing about it for weeks. Toni is about ready to tell Jughead herself when finally, in the third week of October, Betty decides she’ll tell Jughead how she feels after the last home game of the season. 

It’s just one week away. If history repeats itself—as it’s wont to do when it comes to Jughead, a boy of routine—he’ll wait around in the parking lot and invite her out for milkshakes, his treat. It’s the perfect opportunity, even if she’ll be rebelliously blowing off Trula’s Senior Day celebration. 

But, for the first time ever, Jughead doesn’t show. 

It’s not like the first game of the season; he doesn’t hurry to his seat a few minutes late. Not at half-time either. He’s not there when the game ends, in the spot along the chain-link fence where she’s come to expect him to always be. She tries to hide the disappointment from her face, grateful that Toni wraps an arm around her shoulder, steering Betty toward her car. 

“We have to at least show face at Trula’s, okay?” Toni whispers knowingly in Betty’s ear, having noticed the absence of Jughead in the stands as well.

Betty nods. “Any way you can drive me home after?”

Toni nods. “Are you kidding? Any excuse to leave Trula Twyst’s house early I am taking.” 

(Indeed, Toni had told plenty of stories of weird birthday parties at Trula’s over her elementary school years, and when Trula finally hosted a pasta dinner upon becoming captain, Betty could see why. Trula is awful at hosting, and yet her parents are _still_ somehow worse. Honestly, it explains _a lot_ about Trula.)

“Thanks, T,” she says, climbing in the car and staring out the window.

She’s quieter than usual at the Senior Day celebration, scarfing down lasagna and salad in the corner, shooting various field hockey parents polite smiles and trying to laugh along with her friends’ jokes. But her heart is just not in it this year. Inside her head, she’s pacing around, trying to put together any clue that might tell her where Jughead went. 

Once Penny and Trula have given their speeches and the cake has been cut, Toni and Betty manage to skip out early, climbing into her car and speeding away before anyone notices.

“I’m sure there’s a good explanation, Coop,” Toni says softly as they reach the Cooper house, resting a friendly hand on Betty’s shoulder.

Betty gulps to swallow down the tears that threaten to rise. “I hope so,” she says. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Please do,” Toni says. “Love ya, Coop.”

“Love you too, Toni,” Betty says, waving and turning up her front walk. She’s never felt so...deflated...in her life.

Inside, Betty slips past Alice with minimal explanation. She stands in the shower longer than is necessary, letting the hot water clean the entire day from her body. In her room, she feels too restless to sit, so she gathers all her dirty field hockey clothes from her hamper and throws them in the washer. 

She claps caked mud out of her cleats, scrubs them along with her shin guards in the slop sink, letting the water get as hot as she can stand against her pruney fingers. Then she waits in the laundry room, sitting against the warm dryer reading her book for AP Lit and attempting to ignore the millions of thoughts and questions whirling through her mind.

Betty pulls the clothes out while they’re still hot, feeling the warmth against her face. Then she carefully folds her jerseys, her Spandex, her navy blue Underarmour shirts, packing them all carefully away with her stick and other gear until next season—her final season, she realizes, with a weird feeling in her gut. Why does she suddenly feel sad at the thought? Field hockey was always just a means to an end. All she’s ever wanted is _out_ of Riverdale. _Right?_ Immediately, that conversation she had with Jughead three years earlier swims to the front of her mind. They’d pinky promised to leave Riverdale in four years, together. 

Back in her bedroom, she sits on her window seat and lets out the tears that have been threatening to fall since the game started. Turning to stare toward Archie’s window, dark with the curtains half-drawn, Betty realizes that she never knows where Archie is these days, and it never bothers her. But not knowing where _Jughead_ could be? It paralyzes her with fear.

She tries to picture the last time she saw him; it must’ve been in eighth-period pre-calculus. She’d handed him a new pencil when his broke, and the smile on his face had her daydreaming through the next two math problems. She feels like one of those movie characters when they find out someone they love is in danger, running through the last happy moments they had together. She shudders, needing to expel the possibility from her brain. It’s the very same thought that had crept up at the game he’d been late to. _Why do I always assume the worst? He’s okay. He has to be._

When Betty can’t help it any longer, she stands up, crossing the room to where her phone sits plugged into her charger, and sends him a single text. _Get a grip, Betty, he’s_ _your best friend. He doesn’t know you were planning on confessing romantic feelings to him after the game. You just want to know that he’s safe._

 **betty:** idk where you are but I hope you’re okay. 

.

.

.

Jughead doesn’t come to school the next day, or the day after that either.

Betty feels paralyzed, filled with fear. Beyond the initial text she sent that first night, she hasn’t tried to call him. Something inside her can’t reach for the phone, no matter how much her fingers itch for the keys.

By the time she gets home that night, despondent at Jughead’s absence in her classes and the _Blue and Gold_ office for the second day in a row, she can’t take it anymore. Besides, the voices in her head are starting to come up with a lot of awful conspiracy theories about where Jughead could be, and she’s afraid to let them run wild another minute longer.

After a civil and quiet dinner with Alice, Betty composes a single text, drafting at least four different versions before she dares to hit “send.”

 **betty:** jug, where are you? please just let me know if you’re alright.

She ducks immediately under the covers, nose in their latest AP Lit book, knowing otherwise she’ll spend the entire evening staring at her phone. To her surprise, it vibrates only five minutes later.

 **jughead:** betty, i’m SO sorry for not texting sooner. i’m safe, i promise. 

Heart beating rapidly as her stomach floods with relief, Betty quickly types out a response, too much adrenaline to obsess over syntax.

 **betty:** oh good. I was so worried. where are you?

Jughead doesn’t text back right away this time, and for a frightened minute she’s afraid he never will. But when he does text, her phone starts buzzing wildly as multiple messages come in. It’s one long message, separated into many texts.

 **jughead:** I went home to grab something before your game and my dad was on the back of his bike. He said he was moving to Toledo to win my mom back, and if I wanted to co (1/8)

 **jughead:** me with him I’d better pack a bag real quick. I tried to tell him we couldn’t leave and to sleep it off but I couldn’t get him to stay, and he was too drunk to (2/8)

 **jughead:** drive. He would’ve killed himself. The only thing I could get him to agree to was letting me drive the truck. I don’t want to be here, but JB was so excited to (3/8)

 **jughead:** see me and Dad, and my mom’s grandparents have agreed to let Dad stay on the couch. Plus, my parents did that thing they do where they forget why they hate each (4/8)

 **jughead:** other after being apart too long. it looks like they’re gonna force me to enroll in school here for the year. They want to “try to make it work.” I’m really sor (5/8)

 **jughead:** ry i couldn’t reach out sooner. I didn’t remember my charger, so my phone died almost immediately and my dad wouldn’t let us stop till we reached ohio. i’ve only (6/8)

 **jughead:** just gotten my hands on a charger that works. just got both your texts when i powered the phone on. and im sorry for missing your game, on top of everything (7/8)

 **jughead:** else. this royally, completely sucks. (8/8)

 **betty** : omg jug. I don’t even know what to say. that’s really messed up. 

Betty sits there staring at her phone, wanting to say more. She types and retypes multiple messages: _I miss you already._

_What am I gonna do without you?_

_I was gonna tell you something really important after the game. Can I call you?_

_Come back. Please, just come back._

In the end, he texts again before she can decide on something.

 **jughead:** betty, words can’t express how much i don’t want to be here. I’m gonna miss you so much. And i’m sorry for leaving you in the lurch with the b&g and parking and...everything 

She’s unsure how to read it—it feels like there are unspoken words hidden between the lines. Part of her wants to dial him, just wants to hear his voice. But she’s too afraid to be the one to initiate that call, so she doesn’t. 

Betty rereads the message over and over again, and ultimately can’t bring herself to compose a response that wouldn’t give everything away. So she turns her phone over and plugs it into the charger.

Then Betty sits at her desk, stretches out, and gets to work on her faithful mountain of homework in an attempt to tire herself out. Yet it still takes her a long time to fall asleep that night. She keeps thinking she’ll start crying again, that maybe it’s what she needs to finally close her weary eyes, but the tears refuse to come.

.

.

.

For whatever reason, the tears don’t come again until Betty is sitting at a table at the end-of-season banquet dinner, sandwiched between Toni and Midge, listening to Coach Peabody give an impassioned speech about the season.

She manages to excuse herself semi-normally as Penny finishes up and everyone claps, pushing out of the familiar country club ballroom they always rent for the banquet. In the hall, Betty pulls off her heels and moves into a full-on jog.

When she reaches the bathroom, which is thankfully empty, she slams the handicapped stall closed and sinks to the ground, all the anguish and heartache and sadness she’s felt over Jughead’s sudden move coming out as she cries and heaves. 

How had it taken Betty so long to realize that Jughead is her only safe place? That he _always_ has been, that she wants him in every single way. Now he’s gone before she can tell him how she really feels. What would have happened if she’d decided to tell him just one day earlier? Would he have stayed, or would he still have had to leave, ripping her heart out maybe even more? Tearing a piece of toilet paper off the roll to wipe at her smudging makeup, Betty feels so, so alone.

Thankfully, the bathroom door creaks open only a few minutes later. Toni’s soothing voice sounds like a warm cup of tea on a rainy day. “Betty?” she calls cautiously. 

Betty lets out a whimper. “I’m in here,” she says, reaching up to unlatch the door.

Toni, Midge, and Melody come rushing into the stall, where they find Betty crumpled on the floor. Melody immediately pops open her purse, pulling out tissues, make-up wipes, and a mirror as Toni crouches down beside Betty and puts an arm around her shoulder.

“How you doing, Coop?” Toni says. “That was quite a disappearing act.”

“I learned from the best,” Betty sniffles, crying again when she realizes Jughead is gone. 

“Uh...do you know what that means, Toni?” Midge asks, sounding confused. Betty sighs, blowing her nose with one of Melody’s tissues and realizing she has to tell her friends everything. But maybe she finally wants to. It’s too hard keeping it all inside.

Toni nods sadly. “I think she means Jughead.” She turns to Betty. “Did something happen?” 

Betty sighs, taking a moment to finish blowing her nose. “Yes,” she says, clearing her throat. “He, uh, unexpectedly was forced to move. His family’s basically making him finish out the school year in Toledo, while his parents try to ‘work it out.’” In the direction of a confused-looking Midge and Melody, she adds, “His mom took off with his little sister the summer before freshman year, so his parents have been separated for a while now. I thought they were done for good, but um...I guess not. Anyway, that’s why he wasn’t at the last game the other day.”

“Ah,” Melody says. “I actually did notice there was no Beanie Boy in the stands, and I wondered if you two had a lover’s quarrel.”

Betty shakes her head, letting out a fresh wail. “And now we _never will_!” she cries to Midge and Melody’s continued confusion, even as Toni squeezes Betty’s shoulder with a knowing look in her eyes.

“It’s too much to explain here,” Toni says firmly to Melody and Midge. Betty nods in agreement as Toni continues, “Midge and Mel, you two go back to the table so we don’t raise any more suspicion. I’ll stay here with Betty and help her clean up. As soon as this ends, let’s grab Val and Ethel and go to Pop’s. We definitely need milkshakes and girl talk.”

Betty nods, smiling feebly through her tears as she grabs another tissue from Melody’s little travel pack. “That would be good. I can’t go home like this.” (Of course, Alice had once again declined to attend the banquet dinner, insisting she was too busy at the _Register_. This time, it feels like it was for the best.)

“You were still gonna tell him how you feel after the game, right?” Toni asks sadly after Midge and Melody leave to return to the ballroom.

Betty nods, moving to stand up. “I really was,” she says. “I was about ready to burst, so I really think I was gonna be able to do it. I felt...comfortable with my plan and everything.”

Toni sighs as they stand at the sink, Toni helping Betty gather up her hair as she dabs at her face with a wet paper towel. “The best-laid plans,” Toni remarks sadly. 

As soon as the banquet ends, they split up into Midge and Toni’s cars. There’s something endlessly comforting about settling into a red booth with her friends at Pop’s. Toni orders a round of milkshakes and when Ethel orders pancakes, Betty feels a pain in her stomach at the memory of the night her dad left. She instinctively looks over at the corner booth. It’s empty.

“So, we were right, Betty? You and Jughead?” Melody asks as soon as their milkshakes come, and Valerie gives Melody a playful nudge. 

“Let the girl take a sip of her milkshake first, damn!” Valerie teases.

“So impatient,” Toni agrees, tsking her tongue. 

Betty laughs, taking a grateful sip. She expects to feel more nervous than she does. If there’s anyone she’s more than ready to talk to about this, it’s her closest field hockey teammates who have been there for her every day over the past two and a half months.

“Yes, yes, yes, y’all were right,” Betty says, letting out a deep breath. “So kudos for figuring it out before I did. But yeah, for the last, like, month and a half, I’ve been trying to figure out when and how to tell Jughead that I like him...as more than friends.”

Her friends all send her confused looks. “But he’s clearly in love with you, Betty,” Midge says, like it’s obvious, and Betty sighs, a blush on her cheeks. _Are they right? Did I really blow everything?_

“That’s what Toni said too. But...I don’t know, I kept getting scared. He’s my oldest friend. That’s a lot of history to put on the line,” Betty explains. Toni gives her shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

“That’s true,” Ethel says. “I’d be really scared too, Betts.”

Betty smiles sadly. “For what it’s worth, I was planning to tell him after our last home game. You know, the one he didn’t show up to because his shitty dad spontaneously made him move across the country.”

“ _Shit_! That really is such bad luck,” Melody says. “Has he contacted you?” 

Betty nods. “We texted. But...I don’t know. I just, what am I supposed to do, tell him how I feel over the phone? Who knows if he’s ever coming back? I just...I don’t know what to do.”

Her friends all nod sadly at her, sipping their milkshakes in contemplative silence. 

“Hopefully he comes back, Betty,” Valerie says after a while. “Because I’ve never seen someone look at anyone the way Jughead looks at you. I really thought you guys were dating till y’all said otherwise at camp this summer.”

Betty sighs, remembering his text. _Sorry to leave you in the lurch with the B &G and parking and...everything._ “Ugh. Why couldn’t I have gotten my act together?” She buries her head in her hands. “Wait.” She bolts back up. “What _am_ I gonna do about the paper?” she realizes aloud, stomach sinking.

“You’ve still got me,” Toni says firmly. “And you guys will help us, right?”

Ethel nods quickly. “I’m really good with grammar and statistics. I could join as a copyeditor slash pollster. Then you guys won’t lose your club status, right?”

“You know I’m down to help,” Valerie says. “Editing, writing an article here or there, whatever.”

“I can do anything you need,” Melody agrees. “On top of my normal column, of course.”

“Fangs and I are always down to help with distribution,” Midge offers, eyes sparkling wistfully.

Betty feels choked up again. “Thanks, you guys. Ugh, you’re gonna make me cry again.” They all giggle as Betty says, “Please, let’s talk about something else. Enough about me. Midge, tell us about Fangs.”

“Oh, if you’re sure,” Midge says coyly and everyone laughs, eagerly ribbing her for more info. 

Soon, Betty feels a little lighter just laughing with her friends. At some point, Veronica and Cheryl must come in. Betty isn’t sure how long the opposite corner has been populated with River Vixens and jocks; some football event must’ve let out. All Betty knows is that some time passes before she raises her eyes to find Veronica staring right at her from across the room. Veronica offers a little wave, and Betty raises her palm in V’s direction. They shoot each other a sad smile of understanding before each are respectively pulled back into their friends’ conversations.

.

.

.

An hour later, Valerie’s mom comes by to pick up Melody and Valerie. As the sophomores drive off, Toni smiles slyly. “How about we go somewhere and smoke?”

Midge claps her hands together. “Yes, _please_.”

Ethel appears as nervous as Betty feels. But then again, her stomach is already swirling with anxiety thinking about trying to get to sleep that night. “I’ve never done it before,” Betty offers rather obviously.

“Same,” Ethel says quietly beside her.

Toni shrugs, adding quickly and sincerely, “You don’t have to! And you don’t have to make it a habit either. You can just try and see if you like it.”

Betty nods, exchanging a reassuring look with Ethel. To be honest, she’d always thought she’d try smoking weed in college. Charles used to smoke behind their house when their parents were out and she always liked the way it smelled. And Toni and Midge always seem happy when they smoke. Betty figures if she’s gonna try it with anyone, it has to be with these girls who always make her feel safe. If Betty likes it, it’ll just confirm one more thing she wants to do when she finally flees from her mother’s house. 

“Okay, I’m down to try,” Betty says. “But only if you are, Ethel.”

Ethel nods. “I’d much rather you guys show me than some pretentious dude at college.”

Toni laughs. “Now, that’s the spirit!”

Midge claps her hands together, throwing an arm around Ethel’s shoulder. “Toni, can you drive? We can come get my car later.”

They take the short drive out to Sweetwater River, settling on the quiet bank huddled together on a blanket from Toni’s trunk. They’ve never been more grateful for Pepper’s idea to order cozy field hockey hoodies the year before. 

Midge pulls out a marbled-green pipe Fangs gave her, letting Toni pack it and explain how to properly inhale. Betty stumbles trying to cover the carb with her finger, and doesn’t let out a cloud of smoke until her third try. Ethel gets a hit almost immediately, devolving into deep coughs as Midge strokes her back and hands her a water bottle. 

They all giggle when Ethel opens her eyes again to reveal they’re bloodshot. “Okay, I feel it. I _feel_ it.”

Once they’re all high, they lay on their backs on the blanket, gathering warmth from each other’s bodies. It’s a clear enough night that they can see the stars, and Betty feels giddy, airy, like some of the constant buzzing in her brain has been put on mute. Images of Jughead still dance in her head, but he looks happy and safe and patient. 

“I think I like weed,” Betty murmurs and her friends all giggle.

“How about you, Ethel? Verdict?” Toni muses.

Ethel shrugs. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t hate it,” she says and they all laugh again.

“Tell us some gossip,” Betty says, unsure where that even came from. She just knows that she wants to listen to her friends’ voices as she stares at the sky.

“Fangs gives really good head,” Midge blurts out to Ethel and Betty’s gasps and Toni’s muffled groan followed by a “that’s my best friend, Midge, TMI!”

“Okay, okay,” Midge says. “I have some good stuff, forreal. Moose still tells me Vixen gossip.”

Betty finds out, surprised, that apparently Moose and Kevin are now an item. Midge admits that Moose told her a month after they broke up that he thought he was bisexual and wanted to explore things with Kevin, but she’d been keeping it a secret till he came out. Midge, Toni, Fangs, and Sweet Pea had attended Reggie’s recent house party, and apparently Moose and Kevin had been full on making out near the pool. _Go Kevin_ , Betty thinks, though it’s a little strange to be hearing this info about an old friend secondhand.

When they run out of distantly-relevant Riverdale High gossip, Midge plays music from her phone. Soon the four friends are dancing, laughing, and spinning each other around in the dark grass. 

  
  


* * *

_Even though there's not much time_

_I can't get it off my mind_

_Everything feels different_

_Now here without you_

-beach fossils, wild nothing (2011)

* * *

  
  


**_late fall 2010_ **

It’s November and Betty doesn’t have her usual armor of Jughead at the lunch table. Ever since belatedly finding out that Kevin had gotten together with his longtime crush, she’s felt guilty for neglecting her old friends. 

And that’s how Betty ends up letting Veronica, Cheryl, and Kevin drag her to a party at Munroe Moore’s house. Apparently the incredibly tall, buff, and kind Munroe is new to town this year, quickly becoming the rising star of the Riverdale High football team. Having delegated much of the sports section to Toni and now a more-than-eager Melody, Betty learns most of this while standing in the kitchen between Cheryl, Moose, and Kevin, drinking whatever fruity concoction is in the red cup Munroe hands her. Betty figures it’d be impolite to refuse.

Somewhere along the line, Cheryl must refill Betty’s cup, though she’s not sure how many times. Eventually, she ends up on a couch, everything around her spinning as she watches a blurry Veronica and Archie grinding in the distance.

A hand over her mouth, Betty is trying her hardest not to laugh at the sight of Trev Brown attempting to dance with a half-interested Ginger Lopez when she feels, with a sudden urgency, that she _must_ pee. _Really_ badly. She moves to get up, and everything starts to feel hazy.

“ _Whoa_ ,” she says, sitting back down to find the room spinning.

“Coop!” 

Betty turns her head too fast at the familiar voice, a wave of nausea cascading over her sweaty body. She feels too _hot_. “Toni! Ugh…”

Toni looks amused, immediately sitting down next to her. “Did you actually drink tonight, my little lightweight?”

Betty nods, swallowing down bile with a grimace. “I met the host, _Munroe_ , for the first time. He’s so nice, I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Ah,” Toni says. She backs her face up a little bit, and Betty wonders if she’s being too loud.

“What are you doing here?” Betty asks, wincing at how slurred her speech sounds.

Toni shrugs, tilting her head in the direction of Cheryl and the other River Vixens dancing near the speaker. “Thought I’d stop by, see if I can get Cheryl’s attention,” she says sadly. “But I’m _really_ glad I’m here now that I see you.”

“Me too,” Betty says. “I think I’m drunk. I have to pee, but I can’t move.”

Toni laughs, standing up and holding her hand out to Betty. “Alright, I got you, Coop. First, we pee. Then, we blow this Popsicle stand.”

Betty takes Toni’s hand, laughing then frowning. “Jughead used to say that,” she whines as Toni leads her through the crowd toward the bathroom. 

Like a pro, Toni convinces some drunk sophomore jock to let them cut the bathroom line and soon Betty is finally sitting on the toilet, emptying her full bladder and taking sips of water from a red cup as Toni fixes her hair in the mirror.

“You look really good,” Betty says, taking in Toni’s tight black skirt and mesh shirt revealing a low-cut bralette. “Cheryl doesn't know what she’s missing.”

“Awwww,” Toni says. “So you’re a sweet drunk?”

Betty laughs. “I guess so.”

When they exit the party house, the cold air hits Betty’s face and prompts another wave of nausea. Betty pauses on the front lawn, waiting for it to pass before they walk the block to where Toni’s car is parked.

“Ugh, don’t take me home. I hate home,” Betty whines and Toni laughs as she straps both their seatbelts in.

“I’m the queen of sneaking into houses. Don’t worry, Coop.”

Indeed, Toni parks a block away from the Cooper house and together they shimmy the back door open, closing it quietly before sneaking up the stairs and into Betty’s bedroom. They brush their teeth in her bathroom, Toni grabbing Advil out of the medicine cabinet and forcing Betty to take it with a full glass of water.

“You should stay,” Betty says as she retrieves pajamas from her drawer, setting aside a clean pair for Toni.

“Thanks, Coop. I’m way too tired to drive across town,” Toni says with a yawn.

They lay face to face in Betty’s bed, both quiet. She’s grateful the room has mostly stopped spinning, though she still feels awful. Her head is pounding. 

“So, why’d you really get drunk tonight, Betty?” Toni whispers. “I thought you hated parties.”

Betty frowns. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t want to be alone. Most Saturday nights, I’d blow off a party invite but hang out with Jug instead.” She sighs. “But at least I can now confirm I like the weed better.”

Toni laughs. “Same, Coop. Same.”

“Thanks for rescuing me, Toni,” Betty whispers before finally drifting to sleep.

.

.

.

The next morning, Betty groans as skinny rectangles of light pierce through the blinds. Her phone buzzes, and she pulls herself up to make sure it isn’t Alice. Her stomach flips when she finds Jughead’s name on the screen. Betty turns to check that Toni is still fast asleep beside her, and quickly silences her phone before diving under the covers to read in privacy.

Betty opens the text and realizes with horror that she texted Jughead at some point the night before, clearly while still very drunk.

 **betty:** fvck so i got stuck at a party without you!!!! think im drunk

 **betty:** its really NOt fun. you were right all along

 **betty:** i miss you

Betty breathes a little easier when she realizes she’d somehow avoided sending anything _too_ revealing but still...not even close to her finest moment.

 **jughead:** good morning sunshine. hope you drank lots of water last night. I miss you too.

Like every time Jughead has texted her since he left, she has the sudden urge to call him and tell him everything. But as usual, she can’t bring herself to do it. 

**betty:** i’m so sorry for those texts, embarrassing! I drank lots of water, toni saved me.

 **jughead:** glad to hear it. toni rocks. i’ve been meaning to text you anyway; how are you?

Betty gulps, unsure how to answer the question without lying to her best friend. She types out a bunch of drafts, but finally settles on the simple: 

**betty:** other than last night’s failed attempt at partying, i’m hanging in there. how’s Jellybean?

Jughead types back a few lines about how excited Jellybean still is to have Jughead and FP around, how his grandparents are nicer than he remembered, but how “Toledo sucks even more than Riverdale, if that’s even possible.” He adds in another “I miss you” and Betty provides a few follow-up questions about Ohio and gives him a little newspaper update, but the conversation fizzles out only a few minutes later. 

There are so many unwritten questions, so many things Betty’s too afraid to ask. Like, will he join the newspaper at his new school? Will there be some new, even more beautiful girl there who will sweep him off his feet, make him forget all about her? Her heart quickens with anger at the very thought of some faceless girl getting to kiss Jughead before she can. She’s pretty sure Jughead has never _like-_ liked anyone. She realizes they never really talked about crushes, at least not since she got over her Archie infatuation. She remembers Jughead’s complete distaste when Ethel attempted to kiss him, but nothing else. 

Maybe it’s the same for him; maybe he doesn't want to know if she’s managed to make the newspaper work without him. Whatever it is, Jughead doesn’t make an effort to continue the conversation either. 

At some point, Betty comes out from under the covers. She’s on her side, obsessively rereading their text conversation for the fourth time with a guilty little grin on her face when Toni turns over, amused.

“You really have it bad for Jughead Jones, huh, Cooper?”

Betty nods sadly, resting her head on her friend’s shoulder.

* * *

Jughead lays on his back in the tiny twin bed his grandparents had pulled out of storage and set up in the basement for him, rereading his conversation with Betty. 

His serene, Betty-induced smile fades when she lets his “that’s cool” message sit there for a long time. It’s not the same when this is _all_ he has, this short dialogue contained within his shitty old flip phone. No more lunchtime _Blue and Gold_ sessions or late night Pop’s runs. His new school is desolate and unfriendly, full of faceless people he has no desire to meet.

He searches his brain for some witty quip to keep the conversation going, to keep Jughead from feeling like Betty is slipping away. But Jughead doesn’t know when he’ll be back, can’t bring himself to tell Betty how he feels when he can’t look her in the eye himself. It’s why he hadn’t called her or tried to find her to say goodbye—he knew he couldn’t tell her his feelings but he also was certain he couldn’t _not_ , if faced with her delicate green eyes fixed on him as he tells her he’s leaving Riverdale...without her. Which was never, ever, ever his plan.

It feels, once again, like his family has decided his life for him—and in some ways, Betty’s life has always been that way too. Maybe if they were two very different people it wouldn’t be this hard. 

He cries himself back to sleep, knowing his dreams will be filled with Betty Cooper in a blue-and-gold pleated skirt.

* * *

Alice is already gone to the _Register_ when Betty and Toni finally make their way downstairs, a Post-It note left on the fridge. 

“Pop’s?” Toni suggests, looking down at her phone. “Fangs just texted me asking if I wanted to meet him and Midge for breakfast.”

Betty nods with a little smile. “That sounds amazing,” she says, rubbing her still-sore head.

In the diner, they settle into a booth near the front where Fangs and Midge apparently had their first date. Betty orders water and coffee and pancakes, eating quietly, grateful to have friends who make her laugh. She’s content to just listen for a while. 

Fangs talks about the motorcycle he and Sweet Pea are saving up to buy together, a replacement for the one that had broken down a couple weeks ago.

Betty’s ears perk up. “Do you guys think you’ll need any help fixing it up?” she says slyly.

“Uh, _yes_! You saved our asses last summer with Toni’s car,” Fangs says.

“Betty’s always been handy like that,” Midge brags. 

“Besides, once we have a motorcycle _and_ Toni’s car, we can bring the whole crew out to the quarry to swim this summer. It’ll be amazing,” Fangs says excitedly.

“Ooh, that _does_ sound amazing,” Toni says. “Let’s pray I have a girlfriend by then. I need to _dominate_ at swimming-hole Chicken this summer.”

Midge laughs. “Hey, me and Fangs are the reigning champions.”

“And we weren’t even dating yet last summer,” Fangs adds smugly, dropping a kiss to Midge’s head. Midge looks up and shares a secret smile with him. 

Betty blushes a little, averting her eyes. She feels like she’s seen something too intimate. Her heart aches. She wants those kinds of moments with Jughead more than anything.

“Betty, will I ever _not_ be hopelessly infatuated with your friend? Will she ever notice me? Do we think she’s even gay?” Toni groans, providing an excellent distraction.

Betty laughs as Toni rests her head on Betty’s shoulder in exasperation. “Oh, she’s gay,” Betty says confidently and Fangs, Toni, and Midge all burst out laughing.

“Hey, now that field hockey season is over, I’ll make it my mission to get you and Cheryl together,” Betty declares. She sighs. “After all, there’s nothing happening in my love life.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Midge says. “Some couples make long distance work.”

Betty shrugs. _For that to work, one or both of us would need to say something._ “Hey, speaking of potential couples, any word on Ethel and Ben?” Betty asks, eager to change the subject. “She seemed really psyched about something at the last pasta dinner.”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Midge leans in close. 

“It’s _juicy_ ,” Fangs says, his arm secure around his girlfriend’s shoulder.

Toni and Betty laugh, Betty stirring her coffee and trying to push down the sadness. She’s having fun, despite the ever-present Jughead-sized weight on her chest.

.

.

.

Still, before she leaves Pop’s these days, Betty always finds herself taking a final look around the restaurant. 

The corner booth remains, gut-wrenchingly, empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told y’all this was a slow burn, plz don’t throw things at me!!! 
> 
> Now some deeper understanding of how this manifestation of high school was conceived in my brain—when i was a teen, i was way too scared of rejection and not confident in myself so i was never assertive enough with any of my crushes. Like, i legit invited this dude i liked to a concert because i knew we both liked the band, i hoped he’d make a move, and then did nothing about it when he didn’t. So, if you’re frustrated with Betty right now—um same! I was frustrated at myself for my entire teenage years. 
> 
> I promise there are *many* payoffs coming in Chapter 4. (Including a lot more of Jughead’s perspective to fill in some of the gaps.)
> 
> I’m about halfway through writing chapter 4 and am hoping to get the next chapter up at some point in the next three weeks, but as i said in the opening notes, i’m running a little behind so it’s unlikely i’ll be able to keep up my weekly schedule for the final chapter. Follow me on tumblr @stonerbughead for lots of previews!
> 
> Thanks for reading & sending y'all all the love,
> 
> xo Maria


	4. chapter four: seniors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all! Uh so yeah, hope you like long chapters bc this is by far the longest and most gratuitous thing I’ve ever written!!!! but I really love it and hope y’all do too!!!!
> 
> As you can see, I decided to make the epilogue (that was originally intended to be part of this chapter) into a fifth chapter. So that will be coming soon! I just wanted to get chapter 4 out sooner than later and figured since it got so long, the epilogue would work better as a separate chapter anyway! 
> 
> ALSO I’m sorry for breaking your hearts!!! Part of the reason i wanted to limit Jughead’s perspective in the last chapter was bc a) Jug was actively trying to ignore FP getting worse until it was too late and b) Betty was entirely in her head about this crush and perhaps a bit off her observation game as a result! I wanted y’all to feel the same amount of surprise and shock as Betty did but still...i’m sorry LOL. when i initially plotted out this story i thought i’d only have to make y’all wait a week between 3 and 4 but if it makes you feel any better, more and more scenes kept coming to me in the process for this chapter that weren’t in the original outline! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!  
> Maria

for your optional listening pleasure: [mix cd #4](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6tetNr3MiMA3TLHa3DQUfp?si=I9rPkXzJQBGJ_Oj6UwsXyg)

* * *

_Do I still cross your mind?_

_Your face still distorts the time_

_With heat struck afternoons long through_

_Those idle dreams go back to you_

-neon indian (2011)

* * *

  


**_late summer 2011_**

There’s something undeniably strange about stepping out of Toni’s car on the first day of preseason. Their _last_ preseason. Betty wonders how many times this year she’ll be reminiscing about endings. Will it be imbued in every single ritual? 

Toni grins at Betty as she pulls her field hockey stick out of the backseat. “Smells like fresh cut grass and nervous freshies,” she quips and Betty laughs.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m still a nervous freshman,” Betty replies, coming around the car to stand next to Toni and stare across the parking lot at the field, where Penny is talking to a couple unfamiliar-looking girls.

Toni turns to give her a frown. “You doing okay, Coop?” she asks with a hint of understanding. 

Betty shrugs. “As okay as I’ll ever be in this Godforsaken town,” she replies. Toni snorts and locks her car, and they wordlessly head across the lot.

It’s true that Betty is okay. Technically, the rest of her junior year had been a resounding success. Between library study sessions with Toni on the Southside and weekends holed up in her room, Betty finished the year with a weighted GPA of 4.2. She took the SATs once in the spring and a second time over the summer, satisfied with her close-to-perfect score of 2200. 

Then Betty was so busy over the summer that it barely felt like a break. She worked in the Southside branch of the library for the second year in a row, stealing minutes during the day to work at finalizing her college application list. She’s only a draft or two away from feeling satisfied with the college essay she’s been writing for months. Any spare time leftover had been spent at the quarry, sunbathing and swimming and taking the occasional toke with Toni and Midge and Fangs and Sweet Pea.

And to be honest, her friends are probably the only reason Betty is even hanging on these days. Thanks to their genuine promises to pitch in on the _Blue and Gold,_ Betty only became closer to Toni, Ethel, Midge, Melody, and Valerie throughout the cold winter months. Although the newspaper hadn’t managed to snag the kind of accolades she and Jughead earned in their first year, one of Betty’s articles did win an award on its own. Toni’s photography was also honored. If you measured Betty’s life by her college application, it’s shaping up to be nearly perfect. 

But none of it feels as meaningful or important as she expected. Not without him.

.

.

.

If Betty was a freshman this year, she’s sure she would be unbelievably intimidated by Toni Topaz. (Hell, Betty _was_ intimidated by Toni when they were both freshmen.) But as Toni’s best friend on the team, instead Betty is the only one who knows how nervous Toni actually is about upholding her captain duties. Over the summer, they’d spent plenty of afternoons at the quarry and evenings in Pop’s talking about all the best things about Prudence and Pepper and Trula—and the worst. 

But as Toni leads the cooldown stretch at the end of their first day, Betty knows that Toni never had anything to worry about. She’s a natural-born leader, and the younger girls are already staring at her with stars in their eyes. This year, they have three recruits, including a Southsider Toni actually knows—Peaches ‘n Cream, who for a long time had a reputation for being the best street hockey goalie in the trailer park. Peaches almost immediately volunteered to take the vacant goalie position when Coach Peabody mentioned it at the beginning of practice. Joining the team is also a strange but sweet girl named Evelyn Evernever who just moved to Riverdale this year, and Nancy Woods, a Northsider Betty vaguely recognizes from elementary school.

Betty turns on her side for the next stretch, exchanging a proud smile with Midge. It’s strange not to be shooting Toni looks in the circle. 

From the center of the Riverdale crest, Toni calls, “Okay, y’all, one last arm stretch!” 

As they finish up, Penny jogs over to the group with clipboard in hand. She stops next to Toni, giving her a grateful smile. “Alright, girls, huddle up.”

As the girls form a tighter circle, Roz and Sabrina playfully bump Betty’s hip on either side of her. Betty sticks her tongue out at her friends before returning her attention to Coach Peabody before she gets caught. At field hockey camp that summer they’d gotten to know Roz, Sabrina, and Alexandra a lot better, a concerted effort by Toni to ensure her reign as captain didn’t create any cliquey vibes.

Penny runs down the schedule for the next day’s practice, reminds everyone to report to Svenson at 10 AM sharp, and heads toward her car. “You think Penny has a hot date?” Roz whispers to Betty and Sabrina, who suppresses a giggle.

“The thought has occurred to me before,” Betty replies quietly.

Toni shoots the three of them an “I love you but shut the fuck up” look and they all go quiet, sending apologetic glances back. 

“For the freshies, we’re about to finish practice with a time-honored cheer that the Riverdale High field hockey team has been using since the ‘90s,” Toni says proudly. Melody and Valerie offer enthusiastic cheers across the circle.

“ _Love_ that,” Peaches says loudly, and Betty cheers. 

“Me too, Peaches,” Toni says with a laugh. “I...I just want you all to know that me and the other seniors”—she tips her head toward Ethel, Midge, and Betty, who all nod enthusiastically along with Toni’s speech—“are always here for you. The most amazing thing about this team is the way we take care of each other. It’s more important than winning, I promise you. So, to our newbies: welcome to the sisterhood!”

All the older girls immediately start clapping, and Betty tries not to stare too hard at Evelyn and Peaches and Nancy, even though part of her wants to watch them carefully for their reactions. Do they feel the same level of excitement and belonging that Betty had during her first preseason? Ever since Jughead left, a part of Betty has wished she could go back and do high school over, to figure out much earlier what had been in front of her all along. But the one thing she knows she’d never change is joining the field hockey team.

She shakes her head, refocusing as the girls start rattling their sticks in the circle. “We are Bulldogs, we are sisters!” Toni screams.

The rest of the girls echo her cheer, throwing their heads back as they yell it out onto the otherwise-abandoned field: “We are Bulldogs, we are sisters!”

“Amazing first day, ladies,” Toni says with a flushed face when they finish. “Get some rest tonight, and we’ll see ya tomorrow.”

The younger girls peel off first—probably exhausted from their first day—leaving Betty, Ethel, and Midge in the crest waiting to congratulate Toni on a job well done. When the other girls are all out of earshot, Toni finally dares to make eye contact with Betty. “Give it to me straight. How did I do?”

Betty shrugs. “You’re a natural. You killed the game.”

“Best. Captain. _Ever_ ,” Midge agrees.

“I can take a straw poll if we want some data,” Ethel suggests and they all laugh, Toni laughing so hard she has to hold her stomach.

“Oh, Ethel, I love you,” Toni says when she finally regains her breath. “Please never change.” She throws her arm around Ethel while Midge stoops down to pick up the ball bag and Betty grabs a couple stray cones.

“I can’t believe this is the beginning of the end,” Midge says solemnly as the four of them take their time crossing the field. 

“Ugh, that makes me so sad,” Ethel says. 

“We have to savor every single minute we have left together,” Toni says firmly, turning to give Betty a sympathetic look. 

“We will,” Betty says quickly, though her mind isn’t completely there. Half the time, she’s daydreaming about Jughead returning to her, the weirdest little details sparking an alternate storyline that would lead to him running back to Riverdale and wordlessly gathering her up in his arms.

The distraction of packing away her mouthguard and cleats has never been more welcome. 

.

.

.

Preseason flies by in its usual haze of sprints, three-mile runs, and scrimmages. They run way more shooting drills than usual, trying to get Peaches accustomed to defending the field hockey goal, when she’s been so used to a smaller street hockey net. Toni continues to be a spectacular captain, Betty and the other seniors pitching in as much as possible. 

Betty’s first-aid skills come in handy the afternoon Evelyn skins her knee in the parking lot after Penny had already left for the day. And Sabrina breaks down at the end of practice on the third day, admitting that her longtime boyfriend Harvey Kinkle had broken up with her unexpectedly. Toni gathers the sophomore girl up in her arms, while Midge and Ethel hype Sabrina up, decrying how much Harvey’s missing out on by letting such a catch go. 

In other words, preseason flies by simply because Betty feels better than she has in weeks. Getting to be surrounded by the positive, loving energy of this team—especially the version of this team led by Toni Topaz—has lifted her spirits more than she thought possible. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll get through this year.

.

.

.

Soon it’s Wednesday, and there’s less than a week to go until their final year at Riverdale High begins. School starts up on Monday...for the last time. Friday is the traditional color war hosted by the seniors—it’s still weird to think that means _them_ now—and then Saturday will be the final day of preseason, full of scrimmaging and Penny jotting down notes on her clipboard. 

After practice, the seniors hop into Toni’s car and head to Target to get supplies for the Friday color war. Over the rest of junior year, Betty had spent more and more time with her field hockey friends outside of school; although all her friends had their own core groups of friends, they usually made time for weekly Pop’s catch-up and study sessions, which Betty appreciated, stuck at home with Alice Cooper. Not to mention always attending weekly _Blue and Gold_ staff meetings, which Betty implemented in an attempt to regain control when she lost her co-editor in chief so suddenly.

In the car, they make the final decision to go with four teams: Ethel claims red, Midge blue, Toni green, and Betty is content to be left with yellow. They turn up the music and sing, Midge remixing the lyrics into jokes about how the Blue Team is gonna “kick your asses on Friday,” to which Toni ends up belting a verse back about the Green Team’s eventual victory. Betty giggles from the passenger seat at her friends, watching Riverdale grow smaller behind them as Toni gets on the highway. 

At the store, they gather items and devolve into giggling fits of gossip as they meander down the aisles, Midge gabbing about a new sex position she recently tried with Fangs. Betty dreads moments like these ever since Jughead left. Although she’s happy to have her friends to confide in, it’s uncomfortable how they send her looks of pity every time they pause during a conversation about their love lives to glance at Betty, making sure she has nothing new to contribute. They probably don’t even know they’re doing it, so she never says anything, but it stings a little bit.

As they peruse the craft and party supply aisles, intermittently adding things to their baskets, Betty hears the latest update on her friends’ various relationships. Midge and Fangs are still hot and heavy, coming up on their one-year anniversary in September, which they plan to celebrate in a motel room in Greendale. (Sounds gross to Betty, but she isn’t one to yuck someone else’s yum. And maybe, if Betty’s being honest, she’s mostly jealous.) Meanwhile, Ethel and Ben are an item now, ever since Ben asked her to junior prom and they finally kissed after months of flirting and according to Ethel, “intense sexual tension.” Ben doesn’t come around much, but he’s never been a particularly social guy.

As Ethel provides an update on her latest date with Ben, Toni frowns and fingers a vial of green glitter before passing on it. Toni and Cheryl had finally ignited the clear sexual tension between _them_ at a party at Thistlehouse on New Year’s Eve, which Betty had begrudgingly attended to wingwoman Toni. Unfortunately, Cheryl’s parents have been less-than-accepting of Cheryl’s sexuality—making homophobic comments before Cheryl even had a chance to try to come out—and Toni and Cheryl’s relationship has been hot and cold as a result. 

Despite shacking up at Thistlehouse together for nearly all of July while the Blossoms vacationed in the Hamptons, the return of Cheryl’s parents a week ago had changed things. Right now, Toni and Cheryl’s relationship has gone cold once again. Betty feels for her friend, but a small, selfish part of her is glad to have someone to commiserate with in her eternal singleness. She’s ashamed at the thought. 

“Hey Betty, have you talked to Jughead lately?” Ethel asks curiously. Betty pretends to check the price of yellow streamers. 

“Uh...same as usual. You know, text or Facebook chat like once a week-ish,” she says, trying to be casual about it. “He still hates Toledo.”

“Any chance he can come back for senior year?” Midge asks, a suggestive lilt to her voice.

Betty shrugs, face suddenly flush. “I wish,” she says sadly, moving pointedly away from her friends. It does the job of ending the conversation. 

She misses Jughead so much, in fact has become accustomed to a pain in her gut that never leaves, a constant reminder that something is missing. It’s there in the _Blue and Gold_ , even during her weekly meetings with the new staff. It’s there in Pop’s, every time she glances over at the corner booth to find it empty or claimed by some younger kids she doesn't even recognize. It’s there every time she visits Toni at Sunnyside and passes the Jones trailer, still as dark and abandoned as the week Jughead left. 

She realizes, with a pang, that she hasn’t heard much from Jughead beyond sharing funny Tumblr posts in a month or so. Their long-distance conversations never get as deep as they felt in Riverdale, like there are questions they’re both too afraid to ask. All Betty wants is to see him again, to know that he’s still real and solid and _hers_. She hasn’t asked if there’s any chance he could come back for senior year—it’s just another question she’s too frightened to know the answer to.

“You about ready to check out, Betty?” Toni asks quietly, making Betty startle a little from her thoughts.

“Um…” she looks down at the basket balanced on her arm. “I think so. Let me just grab some face paint and I’ll be good.”

Toni drives everyone back to the Svenson parking lot to grab their own cars, Midge speeding away immediately to meet Fangs in time for their date. 

This is the second day of Hal’s long weekend vacation with his new girlfriend. Creepy and weird, yes, but at least her dad left his car to Betty for the entire time he’s gone, feeling guilty that they’d sold off the minivan as part of the divorce settlement. Betty’s soaking up the last three days before he returns and she has to go back to getting rides with Toni. She’s the only senior without a car of her own, and she wishes it didn’t bother her as much as it did.

“Thanks for the ride, T!” she sing-songs, doors shutting as Ethel and Betty wave and get into their own cars. 

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Betts!” Toni calls back.

Betty puts in one of the old mix CDs Jughead had given her, a new habit she’d adopted since he left. It makes her feel like a little part of him is still here. She decides to take the long way, remembering that Alice had mentioned not being home till late anyway. 

She’s meandering past the Northside-Southside border when she spots it. Thankfully, no one’s behind her to witness the way she slams harshly on her brakes in reaction to the sight: Betty would recognize that old blue truck anywhere. And right now, it’s parked outside the little bodega she’s passed a million times without giving it a second glance. 

She peers through her window, trying to catch a glimpse of Jughead or even FP emerging from the store into the tiny parking lot, but no luck. A minute passes before she spots a car coming up behind her in the rearview mirror. She sighs and drives away, the truck quickly receding from her view.

Her heart is racing with excitement, her mind immediately filling in the hypothetical blanks like she’s started doing with increasing frequency in the time they’d been apart. 

Betty honestly is quite sure she hasn’t been this excited since Jughead left, but reminds herself to keep her cool. After all, he hasn’t texted her anything about returning to Riverdale. It’s been _months_ since she’s seen Jughead Jones in the flesh and not just in her fantasies late at night, under the covers. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up.

* * *

_I know someday the smoke will all burn off_

_All these voices I'll someday have turned off then_

_I will see you someday when I've woken_

_I'll be so happy just to have spoken_

_I'll have so much to tell you about it then_

-fleet foxes (2011)

* * *

  


_**fall 2011**_

Sure enough, Jughead Jones shows up to the _Blue and Gold_ office on the first day of school, a sheepish smile on his face. He must’ve remembered Betty’s habit of stopping in the newspaper office a half-hour before homeroom, something she’d started doing toward the middle of sophomore year and never stopped. 

Her heart catches in her throat at the sight of him. His hair is less overgrown since the last time she saw him, and she figures his grandparents had taken him for a proper haircut for once. The beanie comforts her, as does the flannel tied haphazardly around his waist. His t-shirt fits tight across his chest, just as toned as he’d been last summer, if not more. Just the goofy but nervous grin on his face alone sprouts a million and one questions; even seeing the truck hadn’t prepared her for this moment.

Betty had honestly begun to wonder if she’d made it up; perhaps it was someone else’s truck that just looked really similar? Because, since spotting FP’s truck five days earlier, Betty hadn’t heard anything from Jughead. _Wouldn’t he text me if he was back in town?_ she’d wondered, lying in her bed before sleep the other night. 

Even if she _had_ been confident enough to sleuth some more, she was so exhausted from field hockey that she hadn’t had time to do much but sleep, eat, go to practice, and repeat. The last few days of preseason proved far more exhausting as a senior. They picked color war teams on Thursday after Penny left, forcing each team to meet after practice to give out uniforms and discuss strategy. Betty was pretty excited for her squad, stacked with Alexandra on defense and Melody on offense. Although the Yellow Team was ultimately unable to beat Toni’s prevailing Green Team, they did take home second place on Friday.

Then on Saturday, Penny worked them to the bone playing scrimmages half the day as she paced up and down the field with her clipboard, attempting to pick her starting line-up. Sunday could’ve been a day to do nothing but catch up on sleep, but Midge insisted on throwing a party in her backyard for all the field hockey girls to mark the new school year. When Midge pitched the idea a couple weeks ago, Betty had just been relieved to have something to do on the last night of summer in lieu of getting Pop’s with Jug, so she said “yes.”

(Betty doesn’t learn till later that if she _had_ gone to Pop’s that night per tradition, she would’ve found Jughead sitting in his corner booth for the first time since he’d left ten months earlier, catching up with Pop Tate.)

Instead, the inevitable reunion occurs here, in the dusty newspaper office, mere minutes before their senior year technically begins.

“It’s good to see you, Jug,” Betty finally says, trying to buy some time to collect herself, to figure out a way to organize the hurt.

For months, Betty thought that whenever she saw Jughead again she wouldn’t be able to wait a minute longer, flinging herself into his arms and kissing him full on the mouth. But now that he’s actually here, she finds herself paralyzed. Maybe it’s because Facebook messages and texts hadn’t felt the same as their Pop’s dinners and late nights in the _Blue and Gold_. Over the months Jughead lived in Toledo, Betty hadn’t gone longer than a week without hearing _something_ from him, yet it always just felt so... _friendly_. She scoured their text threads with an obsessive fervor, reading probably too much meaning into every word choice. As time passed, she slowly but surely doubted the certainty she’d once harbored about their mutual feelings. 

“You too, Betty,” Jughead says, stepping cautiously further into the room. “I missed you so much. I can’t believe I’m saying this but...I missed Riverdale too.” He chuckles awkwardly and Betty offers the most enthusiastic smile she can muster.

“Does this mean your whole family is back?” Betty asks, the first question she can pinpoint out of the dozens filling her head, more and more by the second.

Jughead shakes his head sadly, his hands shifting in his pockets. “FP and Gladys 2.0 was an utter failure,” Jughead confirms. “This time, Gladys is insisting on a _real_ divorce, so that’s gonna be fun. And she’s fighting for full custody of Jellybean, so no. It’s just me and FP back in Riverdale.”

Betty nods sadly, clearing her throat and saying, “I’m sorry, Jug.” There are a million things she’s sorry for, if she’s being honest. 

Jughead shakes his head again, letting out a morbid chuckle. “Don’t be sorry, Betts. Honestly, I could tell it was doomed within a month, but they were stubbornly trying to justify moving me across the country so they wouldn’t admit defeat. They kept pushing to ‘make it work’ until June, when they finally had the blowout fight that made Gladys call a divorce lawyer. I was hoping we’d make it back to Riverdale by the end of July, but FP made us embark on this wild goose chase to find his long-lost dad. I should’ve known we wouldn’t make it home any earlier than right under the wire.”

“Wow,” Betty says, unsure how else to take in so much information, along with the sight of her best friend in the flesh for the first time in ten months. 

“Sorry, that was a lot to dump on you before 10 AM,” Jughead says quickly, in his familiar joking tone. “You eating lunch with everyone later?”

Betty shakes her head, realizing with a sad smile how much has changed since he left. “I started eating in here every day months ago. Once people started getting their licenses, everyone kinda stopped eating in the cafeteria.” She pauses, shooting Jughead a sarcastic grin. “And _somehow_ , there’s never room in Archie, Veronica, or Cheryl’s cars for me.” She shrugs when Jughead looks guilty and says, “It’s okay, really. I always preferred eating in here with you anyway.” She blushes at the admission but adds, “It’s not like I don’t have options. I’m always invited to eat with Ethel and her G&G crowd or Toni’s friends, but I usually would rather just work on homework or newspaper stuff.”

“Okay,” Jughead says slowly. “So what you’re saying is: some things have changed, but not you, Betty Cooper.”

The teasing, affectionate lilt to his voice is so familiar, Betty wants to wrap herself up in it and forget the last ten months ever happened. And yet, she can’t do that. Betty isn’t sure she knows _how_ to do it anymore. The pain in her chest has hardened in Jughead’s absence. Can’t he see it? Can’t he see how much harder it was to get through life without him by her side? 

Before she can say anything, Jughead adds quickly, “So, can I buy you lunch later? I feel like we need a proper catch-up.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Betty checks the clock to make sure Jughead hasn’t made her late with his distractingly attractive face. “Okay,” she says, nodding and accepting the peace offering. “I’d like that.” 

Right before the warning bell rings, they agree to meet in the senior parking lot at the beginning of lunch. Betty hoists her stack of books and folders off the desk before following a waiting Jughead out of the classroom.

“Do we have any classes together this year, Betts?” Jug asks as they meander down the hall side by side.

Betty’s face flushes when he hands her his timetable. He’s signed up for Creative Writing too, which she’d admittedly taken with him in mind. Same with AP Government and Politics and AP Statistics. Their homerooms are different though, so they part for the time being, Betty turning as fast as she can, but she swears she can feel his gaze on her neck long after she’s walked away.

.

.

.

Betty half-expects the motorcycle, or some beaten-up car he’d fixed up in Ohio, but Betty arrives at the senior parking lot to find Jughead already pulling the blue truck around to meet her. Betty jumps in the passenger seat and her stomach feels like it’s bottoming out, like she’s going on a first date—which is a weird thing to feel about her oldest friend.

“Didn’t realize you were driving the truck now,” Betty says as she straps in her seatbelt. 

“Yeah, my dad’s taking the bike to his new warehouse job. I think he’s feeling guilty about the hell he put me through this year and figures having regular access to a car for my senior year is a nice consolation prize,” Jughead explains, driving in the direction of the nearest strip of stores, where many Riverdale High kids can be found congregating on their lunch hour.

“Wanna grab slices?” Jughead checks. “Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

“No worries, that’s perfect,” Betty says. She’s overthinking her words in a way she’s not used to. “There’s never enough time for Pop’s,” she adds, overcompensating. 

Jughead nods, grinning at her. “That’s what I was thinking.”

They lapse into silence. Betty’s never had this problem with Jughead before; they’ve always been able to talk to each other about everything. But then Betty thinks about how they haven’t discussed their love lives since she cried about Archie five years earlier, how they’d quickly moved past her swift rejection of Reggie Mantle their sophomore year, and suddenly the strange rift that had grown over the past ten months makes a little more sense. 

Thankfully, the ride is short and soon they’re getting out of the car and waiting in line to order at the counter in the pizza shop.

They grab stools along the window, wiping grease off their fingers and contentedly eating for a couple minutes.

“So,” Jughead says, clearing his throat as he awkwardly breaks the silence. “I know there isn’t nearly enough time to catch up on the last like...ten months over lunch, but….seriously, how are you?”

Betty’s face softens at the genuine care in his voice, and she accepts the olive branch, swinging her legs closer to him. She breathes out and says, finally making eye contact for the first time since they sat down: “I’m okay. Still looking forward to leaving Riverdale.” 

Jughead gulps a little, nodding with solemn understanding. “How are your parents?” he asks.

She shrugs. “Fully detached from each other. Hal’s got a serious new girlfriend who’s way too close to my age.” Jughead wrinkles his nose in disgust and Betty can’t help but giggle at the expression. He smiles big when she laughs, and they stop for a moment, each silently savoring what they’d been missing.

“Well,” Jughead says. “I didn’t see that one coming.” He takes a sip of water before saying, “Did Alice ever confirm whether she’s dating anyone like you suspected?”

Betty laughs, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you remember that. But no, I have received no updates on Alice Cooper’s love life since I saw you last.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” Jughead says and Betty laughs.

“Me either.” Betty checks her phone, half-relieved and half-disappointed to see they have ten minutes before they have to head back to school. 

She bites her lip and turns to look at him, seemingly staring into space as he chews his second slice of pizza. “So…” she says. “How was Toledo?”

Jughead shrugs. “Just like I texted you...awful. I kept my head down, did my homework, and got a lot of writing done.”

Betty nods, smiling. “I’m glad you’re writing,” she says quietly. Betty searches her mind for another question to ask, not wanting to seem rude. But Betty’s too afraid to ask questions she doesn’t want to know the answer to. Like, _Did you have a girlfriend in Toledo?_

“Speaking of writing,” Jughead says quickly. 

“Yeah?” Betty looks at him expectantly.

“I was wondering if there’s any way I can pitch in at the _Blue and Gold_ now that I’m back for the whole year. I...didn’t end up joining the paper in Toledo because it was super competitive and serious, and believe it or not, I actually missed this journalism thing more than I thought I would,” Jughead says, shooting her a goofy grin at the last bit.

Betty can’t help but smile, one that warms her whole face. For a moment, she forgets about how much she feels for Jughead, how she’s terrified he’ll leave her again, how she’s unsure if she can open her heart to him after so many months of pain. Instead, Betty just sees her best friend, the one who helped her launch a newspaper that won an award for its first-ever print issue. 

When she takes a minute to answer, Jughead hastily adds, “And I _do not_ expect to be co-editor in chief again, or anything like that. I understand you had to create a new hierarchy when I took off, and I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

Betty nods. “I appreciate that, Jug. I’ll think about it.” She checks her phone, frowning at the time. They both stand up to throw their paper plates in the garbage. 

“Why don’t you meet me in the _Blue and Gold_ at lunch tomorrow? And we can talk more about it.” Inside, all Betty wants is to give him co-editor in chief back as a title, as she’s wanted since the day he left, but she’s afraid to show her cards so quickly.

Jughead nods, grinning, as he unlocks the truck and they both climb in. “Sounds great, Betts. Thanks.”

“Thanks for buying lunch,” she counters quietly, staring ahead as he puts the truck in drive and heads toward school.

“Any time, Betts,” Jughead says. “I have a lot of lunches to catch up on.”

* * *

The next day Jughead meets Betty in the newspaper office at lunch, as requested. He treads carefully when he enters, a warm “hello” and a tentative “did you give any thought to how I can help out?” But Betty immediately starts catching him up on her first-issue plans thus far, like nothing has changed since the beginning of junior year.

Then she all-too-casually asks “when _exactly_ ” he’d gotten back into town, as if she’d wanted to ask him yesterday but hadn’t been able to muster the courage. (Immediately after asking, Betty sticks her nose in an old copy of the _Riverdale Register_ , which Jughead finds all too convenient.)

“Last week,” he says noncommittally, shrugging.

Betty’s face flushes, if he’s not mistaken, and she says quietly, “I just...on my way home from practice last Wednesday, I swear I saw your dad’s truck at that bodega on the border of the Southside...what’s it called?”

“Ah,” Jughead says, feeling his own face grow hot. “You must’ve caught us within minutes of arriving back in town, Tracy True.”

She laughs awkwardly. “No way.”

“My dad’s friends with the guy who owns that place,” Jughead explains and Betty nods quickly. “Joaquin stored some valuables for us and _supposedly_ tried to keep up the trailer. We just stopped there first to get some provisions and spare keys and stuff.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” Betty pauses. “So...you’ve been home nearly a week.”

She lets the fact hang in the air, and Jughead immediately launches into an explanation about how he’d been so exhausted from the long drive—which he’d done most of—that he’d spent pretty much the entire week alternating between unpacking, catching up on sleep, and cleaning the gross trailer that had been uninhabited for ten months and only occasionally checked on by FP’s friends. Jughead hadn’t emerged until Sunday night, when he’d stopped by Pop’s for the burger and milkshake he’d long been craving...and, though he doesn’t say this to Betty, the unrealized hope that she might be sitting in a booth. 

Betty nods, seemingly satisfied with the explanation, and stands up to add a Post-It to her mostly-empty chalkboard. The next thing she says to him is about the newspaper, and he quickly replies, switching gears as Betty clearly wants him to.

Jughead can tell that Betty’s testing him. Right before he’d been pulled away from Riverdale, he felt like something was on the verge of happening between them. But he was so depressed in Toledo, he’d had trouble reaching out to anyone, let alone trying to confess feelings to and start dating his childhood best friend long-distance. Now that he’s finally reunited with Betty in Riverdale, Jughead knows he has to try everything in his power to get things back on track before it’s too late.

.

.

.

Since getting his license, Jughead has developed a nervous tick for tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He’d driven around a lot in Toledo, listening to the mix Betty made him until he memorized the lyrics from start to finish. Each time, he daydreamed about driving past his grandparents’ house and out of the city, of crossing highways and backroads and not stopping until he reached the house with the red door on Elm Street. His fingers would start tapping faster and faster as he imagined how excited Betty would be to see him. 

Now that he’s back in Riverdale, the tapping habit has only gotten worse. As he navigates the truck into the Svenson parking lot for the first time since last October, he finds himself beating out a sick accompaniment to the Brand New song playing from his stereo. After putting the truck into park, Jughead takes a minute to collect himself. 

It had taken a good deal of effort earlier not to visibly react when he spotted Betty in Creative Writing, wearing the uniform that had haunted his dreams for all the months he’d been away. He already knew today was the first home game; Betty mentioned it in passing in the _Blue and Gold_ the day before, but at that point he’d already looked up the field hockey schedule on the school athletic department website. After bailing on her last home game the year before in such a dramatic fashion, there’s no way he’s gonna miss another.

Then there’s the fact that the teacher called on Betty to read a Sylvia Plath poem aloud to the class, as if putting down a marker on a Bingo Card titled “Jughead’s Deepest Fantasies.” They both devoured _The Bell Jar_ last summer, taking it out of the library one after the other, and Jughead recognized the delighted little smirk on Betty’s face when she began reading from “Lady Lazarus.” When she finished, there was a tiny moment she glanced in his direction and caught him staring; little blotches of pink covered her cheeks and she smiled softly at him before turning back toward the teacher. 

The sound of a car door slamming from the parking spot beside him makes Jughead jump out of his thoughts. He blushes and peers outside to find a couple unfamiliar parents exiting a sleek Mercedes Benz; he relaxes a little when he confirms it’s no one he knows. 

He sighs, leaning back in the driver’s seat. Jughead is truly not sure how much longer he can handle being around Betty without spontaneously declaring his love for her. It had been easier before he left, when he was used to being in Betty’s presence so many hours a day. After months of only seeing Betty in the occasional Facebook photo or in his dreams each night, he’s now thoroughly overwhelmed every time they interact. _Pull yourself together, Jones_ , he thinks, a phrase that had become a sort of-mantra to him during his time in Toledo. 

He takes a couple deep breaths and finally exits the safety of the truck, making sure his headphones are securely fastened over his ears before walking briskly toward the bleachers. Jughead is unnerved to find that Toni’s friends Sweet Pea and Fangs are sitting front and center. He’d almost forgotten they started showing up to field hockey games the year before. Now that he thinks about it, a vague memory of Betty telling him about Midge and Fangs’ flirtation floats to the front of his brain. He’d always gotten along fine with Fangs and Sweet Pea the handful of times Toni and Betty had arranged for them to all hang out, but his socially anxious instincts have him shoving his hands in his pockets and hurrying across the metal beams toward his usual out-of-the-way perch before they can see him. Thankfully, the pair are faced forward and talking animatedly, so they don’t seem to notice him. 

Only once Jughead is seated in his old faithful spot on the bleachers does he dare to lift his eyes toward the field. The grass looks a little shorter than he remembered last season; he vaguely wonders if Penny had intervened with the groundskeepers for some much-needed TLC on the dilapidated field. They seem to be playing Centerville High based on the uniforms on the girls spread across one half of the field, already running drills. The Riverdale team is still stretching in the grassy area beyond the field where they always circle up. He can just barely recognize which girl is Betty in the sea of blue and gold, demarcated as always by her signature blonde ponytail.

Jughead holds his breath when the team finally makes their way back to the sidelines, the girls dispersing to grab mouthguards and water bottles. Betty seems totally engrossed in a conversation with Toni, until Penny pulls her away. That’s when Betty finally turns toward him, hand cupping her forehead as she scans the stands. Her gaze lands on Jughead and she smiles, which he takes as a good sign. He pulls his headphones down and waves. She grins a little wider, waving briefly before turning back toward the field.

She immediately stoops down to tie her shoe, and he watches as she’s soon giggling with Ethel and Midge. He shoves his headphones back over his ears and tries to still the incessant tapping of his feet, not wanting to draw any extra attention to himself on the metal bleachers. Instead, Jughead keeps his head down, daydreaming to the tune of the music blaring through his headphones, and doesn’t look up again until the sound of both teams’ group huddles erupting into cheers. 

Jughead involuntarily beams at the sight of Betty jogging out onto the field, ponytail bobbing and pleated skirt swishing. 

The Centerville High team scores in the first half, but after a time-out the Riverdale team returns to the field invigorated. Fangs and Sweet Pea are enthusiastic spectators in the front row, jumping up and cheering extra loud when Toni, Midge, Ethel, or Betty do something fantastic. Jughead feels his palms sweat as his imagination fills in the blanks—he remembers seeing on Facebook a couple beautiful film shots Toni captured of Betty hanging out at the quarry with Midge and Sweet Pea earlier in the summer. What if she somehow found another Southsider to fill her days with? 

It’s not the first time he’s wondered if Betty moved on, if she’d gone on a date with anyone while he’d been away. He wasn’t one to lurk on social media, but Betty was also not one to go on dates. He shakes the thought from his head, wipes his palms on his jeans, and focuses on the gameplay. 

The game goes by quicker than Jughead remembers, Riverdale High putting up an admirable fight but narrowly losing to Centerville High, 1-0. 

Jughead’s hands are shaking as he stands in his usual spot along the chain-link fence, waiting for Betty to finish packing up. Ethel is the first senior to reach the parking lot, swinging her car keys as a few younger girls follow behind her. 

“Hey, Jughead,” she says sweetly, though she doesn’t stop to talk. “Good to see you back in town.”

“Hey, Ethel,” Jughead manages politely, grateful when the group of girls pass him quickly.

Toni seems to still be talking to the coach on the field below, and he spots Midge and Fangs flirting on the side of the field, pressed close together. Remembering his earlier worry, he starts looking around frantically for Betty, part of him terrified he’ll spot her making out with some other guy near the benches. Instead, he spots Sweet Pea bent over on the bench, shamelessly flirting with Betty’s friend Melody. He visibly relaxes, letting out a sigh of relief just in time to spot Betty walking toward him, holding her own field hockey stick as well as Toni’s stick.

Betty immediately locks eyes with Jughead, and he bounds forward, hoping he isn’t blushing too hard as she pauses to greet him at his old waiting spot. She looks almost bashful, which he takes as a positive sign.

“Nice job out there, Betts,” he says once she’s within earshot and she smiles genuinely with her usual “thanks for coming, Jug.”

“Can I treat you to some celebratory Pop’s?” he asks, taking the plunge even as his whole body is screaming a million worst-case scenarios at him.

Betty frowns, eyes trailing to the ground. “I wish I could,” she says. “But post-game Pop’s is a tradition that this year’s captain wants us to observe religiously after every home game.” Her voice is half-playful, half-serious. 

Jughead’s eyes narrow. “Who’s the captain?”

She grins. “Toni, of course.” 

“Ah,” he says. 

“I’ll see you there though?” she offers quickly, eyes darting unmistakably from his lips back up to his eyes, and he nods. 

“See you there, Cooper,” he agrees, watching her run ahead to unlock Toni’s car and load their sticks in. She shoots him one last smile as she climbs in the passenger seat.

Toni comes running up from the field a minute later, waving quickly at Jughead before climbing into the driver’s seat and pulling out of the lot.

.

.

.

Jughead takes his time getting to Pop’s so that the field hockey team is already settled near the front of the diner by the time he claims his favorite corner booth. Betty sits between Melody and Sabrina, ranting animatedly about something to Valerie and Roz sitting opposite her. Toni holds court in a booth with a bunch of the younger girls, while Midge and Ethel sit with Fangs and Sweet Pea. 

Jughead is fascinated by the dynamic, though a small part of him remembers with a pang that he’d once sat in those booths after a Riverdale High field hockey victory. He remembers Josie calling him an “honorary member” and he yet again wishes he’d had the courage to tell Betty how he felt back then. Maybe he’d be sitting next to Betty now, an arm slung around her shoulder as she smiled at him, both of them riding on the certainty of their mutual feelings. 

He shakes his head, grateful for Pop Tate’s interruption as he brings Jughead his usual. 

Pop follows Jughead’s eye line, shooting him a knowing look. “You two,” Pop says, shaking his head as he looks between Betty and Jughead. 

“I know,” Jughead says, swallowing and giving Pop a sad smile. “I’m working on it.”

“Good,” Pop says, and then he’s off again.

Jughead pulls out his laptop, opening his document where he’s been brainstorming pitch ideas for the paper, but he finds himself frequently distracted. He can’t help but be captivated by how much more self-assured and beautiful Betty looks than even the year before. He hadn’t thought it was even possible. 

Jughead taps his bottom lip absently with his pen as he searches for inspiration. His backpack is filled with the three issues of the _Blue and Gold_ that had been published in his absence and yet he still hasn’t read any of them yet. Yesterday during lunch he’d pitched an idea to Betty that the newspaper apparently already covered in the spring, and despite the gentle voice and sad smile on Betty’s face as she explained this to him, it stings a little to know what he’d missed. 

He’s just typing out a half-idea when the swish of a blonde ponytail enters his periphery. Betty slides into the seat across from him so quietly that he wonders for a moment if he imagined it.

“Hey, Jug,” she says, and he grins, quickly closing his laptop.

“What’s up?” he says, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Just needed a little break,” she says. She glances around the booth at Jughead’s laptop, pen, and journal sprawled across the table alongside his mostly-eaten food. “You know, this booth was empty a lot in your absence,” she adds.

He can’t help but blush at that; she _noticed_. Jughead recovers quickly though, offering a joking “tsk” of his tongue and quipping, “You don’t have to worry about that now, Betts. Count on me to be warming this booth every day till graduation.”

Betty laughs. “I’m so relieved,” she jokes.

Jughead grins. “Hey, so fill me in on all of this,” he says, gesturing behind her toward the field hockey booths. Midge and Fangs are now full-on making out across from Ethel and Sweet Pea, who have turned around to chat with Melody and Valerie in Betty’s booth. 

Betty turns around to follow Jughead’s gaze and laughs. “Oh, right. Yeah, Midge and Fangs are just as hot and heavy as when you left, if not more so.”

Jughead laughs. “Seems like ‘more so’ is the correct answer.”

“Exactly. _Oh_ , and did you know that Moose and _Kevin_ are dating now?”

Jughead’s mouth opens wide and Betty giggles. “Wow, I guess I stopped following Kevin’s blog when I left.”

Betty shrugs. “He’s actually really hit his stride. But for you, yeah, you’re not missing much.” She thinks for a second. “Well, in news that you might actually care about: Ethel and Ben have been together since the spring, though they’re pretty private. Pretty much just stick with the G&G crowd. Cheryl and Toni were a thing and then not a thing and then a thing and now they’re not a thing again.”

Jughead laughs. “That’s not at all confusing.”

Betty giggles. “And hmm...what else? Oh, I honestly have no idea if Archie and Veronica are together, but what’s new? You missed a _very_ scandalous fling between Reggie and Veronica over the winter, but then Archie and Veronica went to junior prom together so honestly it’s anyone’s game.”

Jughead’s heart catches in his throat, and he can’t bring himself to speak the sentence on the tip of his tongue: _who did_ you _go to junior prom with?_

Jughead laughs as Betty catches her breath. “I know it’s not ‘fit to print’ or whatever, but you could give Kevin a run for his money,” he says.

Betty laughs. “Oh, God no. Kevin does his job well. I’d have to know _way_ too much about all the younger kids, and from the little I hear from Sabrina and Roz and Peaches...no thank you!”

Jughead laughs. “Fair enough.”

Betty gives him a small smile. “Hey, so have you seen Archie yet?”

Jughead frowns. He finally texted his friend on the first day of school, asking to get together and catch up, maybe with Betty too, but Archie’s response of “yeah, totally, we should do that! it’s been too long!” had never been followed up on by either of them. 

He opens his mouth to reply just as Toni yells, “Betty! Get over here, I’m making a toast!”

Betty frowns at Jughead, looking genuinely disappointed. “To be continued?” she says quietly and he nods.

“See you later!” he says, feigning more enthusiasm than he feels. He watches Betty rejoin the team, Toni standing up and making everyone in the three booths laugh almost immediately. 

Jughead sighs into his coffee cup; he hadn’t even begun to say anything he really wanted to.

.

.

.

With a stroke of luck, Jughead beats Betty to the newspaper office the next day at lunch. When she walks in to find Jughead leaning back in his chair eating chips with his notebook open on his desk, Jughead considers the surprised flush on her face to be a win. 

“Hey, Betts,” he says.

“Jug,” she says quickly, sitting down at the desk opposite him and pulling out her lunch, eyes lowered toward the worn wooden surface. 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he continues, cautiously letting his voice dip into flirtatious territory.

She dares to make eye contact again, a little smile across her lips as she says, “Yeah? How can I help you?”

“Loaded question,” Jughead quips and Betty laughs loudly. “No, but forreal.” He puts down his chips and wipes grease on his jeans before pointing to his open notebook. “I have a pitch I want to run by you.”

When Betty’s eyes lift again, something has softened in her expression—like maybe she, too, missed Jughead asking her for newspaper help while he was in Ohio. It gives him another little surge of adrenaline, the hope that they’re getting back to where they were before he left.

“Stop me if you’ve already covered this,” Jughead continues, excited to have Betty’s undivided attention. “But I heard there’s this new boxing-for-troubled-youths nonprofit starting up on the Southside?”

Betty furrows her brow. “Hmm,” she says. “I actually don’t think we’ve covered that yet. Didn’t it secure funding over the summer?”

Jughead nods quickly, squinting to check his scrawled notes and cursing his messy handwriting. “According to my research so far,” he says. “One of my dad’s friends is helping out as a volunteer, he tipped me off about it the other night. I bet I could find a bunch of sources through him.”

Betty nods, chewing on her salad as she thinks. “I like the idea a lot,” she says. “Just make sure you talk to surrounding businesses, neighbors, you know, stuff like that. We have to get the full picture.”

Jughead quickly writes down some of what she’s said before smiling back up at her. “Perfect,” he says. “I can start chasing this one later today.”

Betty grins. “Amazing,” she says.

At another lapse in conversation, as Betty crunches some lettuce and checks a text on her phone (“field hockey seniors group chat,” she explains with a giggle before returning it facedown on the desk), Jughead casually asks, “So, you said your friends are helping out with the sports section now?”

Betty nods. “Between Toni and Melody, they get the job done,” she says. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugs. “I guess I was gonna ask...about what we were talking about last night. Archie. How is he?”

Betty shrugs, a sad smile on her face as she seems to consider how to answer. “I wish I knew. I don’t see him much. Although, I went to their last football game of the season last November, because Kevin asked me to come and I was feeling guilty about the whole Moose and Kevin thing happening without me knowing.”

Jughead nods, gulping a little. The idea of missing things, of not knowing essential details of an old friend’s life...the obvious relevance hangs invisible above them in the air. “I’m happy for them,” he tries.

Betty smiles. “Me too,” she says. “But...Archie has been really into his music this past year, from what I can tell. That new kid Munroe produces or something? And they’ve been collaborating on stuff together. At least, that’s what Kevin tells me. I’ve actually seen Kevin more than Archie _or_ Veronica lately.”

“Huh,” Jughead says. _Didn’t see that one coming._ “I missed a lot in ten months, huh?”

Betty averts her eyes and nods. “I guess so,” she says. She clears her throat and looks back up at him. “You, me, and Archie should catch up one of these days.”

“I really miss the three of us hanging out,” Jughead agrees, the same old sentiment as before. He has just as little confidence about it coming true, but any minute he has Betty’s attention occupied is a minute he can breathe a little easier.

Betty sighs, leaning back in her chair a bit. “Some days I want to go hide in Archie’s treehouse,” she admits, a mischievous grin breaking out across her face. It makes Jughead smile too.

“Fred would totally see you,” he teases.

Betty shrugs, considering. “I’d like to think he’d respect my privacy.”

They both laugh, and the silence that follows feels so comfortable, Jughead could wrap himself in it. This is surely the deepest conversation they’ve had since he returned and so Jughead takes another chance.

“Hey, Betty,” he says and she smiles in his direction, the ghost of her laughter still covering her face. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you...um, do you need a ride to practice today, maybe? You know, I have the truck so, if you ever need…” He rubs the back of his neck, internally cursing himself for the tell.

Little spots of pink burst across Betty’s cheeks but she frowns. “Thanks, Jug. That’s really sweet,” she says. “But Toni’s got me.” 

“Right,” Jughead says, trying to act cool and hide the disappointment flooding his stomach. “Her car still running okay?”

Betty grins at him again. “Am I still her mechanic?” she challenges.

Jughead smiles proudly, managing to swallow the thought that comes to his head: _that’s my girl_. 

“Shouldn’t have even asked,” he says instead, mock-curtsying to her, and she blushes into her salad, the best he’s gonna do today apparently.

* * *

On Monday afternoon, Betty finds herself standing along the sidelines with Melody, Valerie, and Midge, drinking from their water bottles and laughing about Melody’s continued attempts to woo Sweet Pea. (The girls tease Melody that it’s now the second week of school, reminding her of the rather outrageous bet Melody made at field hockey camp that she and Sweet Pea would kiss within the first week.) Across the field, Ethel and Toni are setting up cones for the next dribbling drill, Midge and Betty successfully screeching “ _not it!_ ” faster than Ethel.

“Did you see him at the last game? We were _vibing_. I’m gonna ask him out for this Friday and it’ll happen,” Melody says about Sweet Pea. “My secret weapon, you ask? Double feature Fridays at the drive-in.” 

Betty holds her stomach laughing at the intense voice Melody adopts whenever she talks about her romantic pursuits.

“Okay, Mel, but if not, you agreed…” Midge reminds her, holding her stomach with laughter.

“....to streak across the field, I know,” Melody says, sounding bored. “Give me a weeklong extension, and if not, you will see all of me, right here, on this field!”

All their friends devolve into another fit of giggles. 

Betty stoops down to tighten her shoelaces, surprised to hear Valerie’s voice say sharply, “Alright, your turn, Betty.”

“Yes?” she says in an amused tone as she looks up at her friends’ expectant faces.

“It’s been a full week since you reunited with Beanie Boy,” Melody says.

“Are you two making out in the newspaper office yet or what?” Midge adds.

Betty’s face grows hot immediately— _seriously, can my friends read my mind?_ As if this isn’t the exact fantasy she’s been replaying in her daydreams for months.

“I’ve been thinking about him all weekend,” she admits, no longer content with keeping these things to herself.

“Aww, girl,” Melody says, putting a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “So nothing’s happened yet?”

Betty shrugs. “I mean...no. But we _have_ been hanging out and I don’t know...slowly warming back up to each other, I guess?” She sighs, trying to figure out how to put words to the whirlwind of feelings that had distracted her all weekend while she was finalizing her last couple of college applications. “He’s been making an effort to see me, for sure. And I’m just as in love with him as ever,” Betty continues, her friends squealing excitedly for her. She frowns. “But I’m scared, okay? I’m scared he’ll run again.”

“I doubt it,” Midge says with a scoff. “Didn’t he say he hated Toledo? No way he’s gonna miss his second chance with _Betty Cooper_ to go back to _Ohio_ of all places!” They all laugh, Betty included.

“But...what if, things have changed, you know?” Betty says, maybe her deepest fear of them all. “Maybe he found someone else he likes better in Toledo, or maybe he realized he likes me as just friends or…”

Valerie cuts Betty off before she can entertain any more of the scenarios her anxious brain has been concocting since she saw Jughead again a week earlier. 

“Are you kidding me? _No way_. He was sitting in Pop’s like a lovesick puppy in the corner after the game last week,” Valerie contends.

“Seriously, put that boy out of his misery and kiss him already,” Melody agrees.

“Put _us_ out of our misery!” Midge says, and everyone laughs.

Betty sighs. “Am I making both of us miserable?” she asks quietly, and no one seems to have an answer they want to tell her aloud so she figures it’s a “yes.”

* * *

Jughead walks into the _Blue and Gold_ on Thursday with a mix CD in his hand and a plan he’s determined to follow. 

Betty’s already there, standing at her desk poring over a stack of photos. He stops to watch her for the minute before she realizes his presence. The sunlight pours through the dusty window, making the blonde hair in her loose ponytail even more luminous than usual. She wears her dark blue field hockey uniform, and he realizes with a pang that this means Betty will probably be leaving for her away game early enough to miss one of their classes together.

Betty finally raises her eyes in his direction, a little smile tugging at her lips. “Hey, Jug,” she says softly before training her gaze back downward. 

Jughead sits at his desk and takes out his lunch, trying to keep his feet from tapping too obviously against the floor. Betty finishes sorting the photos, straightening each pile before refocusing on Jughead. “Sorry,” she says bashfully, finally sitting down and pulling her own salad out of her backpack.

“How are you?” she asks with a familiar crunch of lettuce. Betty has sounded less guarded lately; maybe not quite back to where they were in October of last year, but she sounds like his best friend again. 

“I brought you a belated birthday gift,” Jughead replies, placing the CD on her desk before he can change his mind. “Sorry for missing your birthday. I really wanted to be able to give this to you when you actually turned seventeen.”

Betty peers down at the jewel CD case with a look of utter surprise. “Thanks, Jug. You don’t really have to apologize though. You texted me that really nice message on my birthday,” she says, staring back up at him with a small smile. 

“No, but I do,” Jughead argues. “I was _planning_ on returning the favor of a mix CD for your seventeenth long before my dad whisked us away on his failed romantic adventure.”

 _Here goes nothing_. “Um...also…”

* * *

Betty’s mind immediately sticks on the phrase “romantic adventure,” even in reference to Jughead’s parents, compelling her to hastily stand up. She uses the excuse of bringing the photos over to the bookshelf, placing the stack neatly in one of her marked bins.

When she hears Jughead sputtering to say something more, Betty turns, surprised that he’s still talking. 

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice quaking more than she wants it to. Jughead stands to meet her, almost as if it’s the polite thing to do, and _God, he looks good._

“Would you...want to get dinner with me on Saturday?” Jughead looks nervous, if the hand on the back of his neck is any indication, and something that feels like hope bursts inside Betty.

“D-dinner?” is what comes out of her mouth, however.

He nods, an unmistakable blush blooming on his face. “If you want. I’ve...missed you, Betts.”

“Okay,” Betty says before she can talk herself out of it. “That sounds good.”

“Great,” Jughead says, looking relieved. “I’ll pick you up.”

She nods, biting her lip and crossing the room again. She returns her attention to an article as Jughead settles into his desk again and pulls out his own notes. 

When he turns to talk to her again, it’s a question about one of the articles she’d assigned him, and Betty deflates a little. Surely this dinner will be an ordinary friendly discussion—a catch-up session he feels obligated to have as her best friend slash co-editor who left her “in the lurch” for ten months. Once again, Betty tries not to get her hopes up. 

.

.

.

By the time FP’s blue truck pulls up to her curb that Saturday night, Betty has basically convinced herself that there’s no way Jughead could like her as anything more than friends.

Still, she wears her new gray dress that dips lower than she's used to, adds an extra swipe of lip gloss, and spends longer fixing her hair than she has since she went to junior prom with Toni (as friends, though Betty offered to pretend otherwise if romantically helpful for Toni, to which Toni told her she was a “true homie.”)

Jughead gets out of the truck to hold the door open for her, and she’s surprised to see he’s wearing his nicest Sherpa, and she doesn’t spot a flannel tied around his waist. “Hey,” he says, hands shoved in his pockets as she climbs into the truck. 

Jughead returns behind the wheel, reaching down to pull a shiny, new iPod Classic out of the cupholder.

“Did Jughead Jones finally graduate from his beloved Walkman?” 

Jughead blushes, pausing to shoot her a sheepish smile. “I know, it’s a new era. I retired the Walkman and finally upgraded when my grandparents got me an iPod for Christmas.”

“ _Whoa_ ,” Betty says. “That’s like the nicest thing any of your family members have ever done for you.”

“Right? I’ll take what I can get.” Jughead lets out a snort of laughter, refocusing his energy on plugging his iPod into the aux cord hanging from his dashboard. “Ah, fuck,” he hisses when the stereo loudly and unexpectedly plays the opening notes of “A-Punk” by Vampire Weekend.

Betty lets out a little shriek of surprise, holding her hand to her rapidly-beating chest before bursting out laughing. Jughead fumbles around with the stereo and the iPod for another couple seconds before giving up. “Whatever, it’s a good enough song. Though I swear I’ve heard it a million times,” Jughead says, turning to smile at Betty, still laughing. “You okay there, Betts?” he teases.

Betty breathes out, wiping a stray tear from her eye. “Sorry. I needed that laugh, woo. I just...you looked so flustered. And...this has also happened so many times before. ‘A-Punk’ is the first song in _everyone’s_ library! Like, I’m pretty sure this has accidentally happened to me in…” she counts on her fingers. “Toni, Midge, _and_ Melody’s car.”

“I’ve never felt more unoriginal,” Jughead quips. He finally puts the truck into drive, passing down Elm Street. “Melody has her license already?”

Betty nods. “She’s old for her grade. Got it right before preseason started.”

“Lucky her,” Jughead says. 

“She’s like, the second best player on our team now. After Toni.”

“Yeah, I noticed last week,” Jughead says. “Also, the new goalie seems really good.”

“She _is!_ ” Betty says, smiling proudly at the image of Peaches staunchly defending the goal at the first home game Jug had attended, and then again this week at their two away games. “Maybe even better than Trula, by the time she’s fully trained up.”

Jughead smiles, tapping his hand on the wheel. “That’s awesome. I recognized her from around Sunnyside, actually.”

“Oh, really?” Betty flushes a little. Sometimes she forgets that Jughead has now lived on the Southside—aside from his ten-month Ohio stint—for nearly five years.

Jughead nods. “You were doing really well at that game too,” he adds. “For the record.” Jughead shoots her a smile through the rearview mirror, and she feels like she’s melting inside. Does he know what he’s doing to her?

“Thanks,” she says. “I train exclusively to the tune of ‘A Punk.’”

Jughead bursts out laughing. “Good one, Cooper,” he says, and Betty flushes with pride. 

Who knew that Vampire Weekend, of all things, would break the ice? In fact, Betty is so at ease that she doesn’t realize they’re not going to Pop’s, as she’d assumed, until Jughead pulls into the parking lot of the swanky restaurant in Greendale she always associated with the year Polly dated Jason Blossom.

They park, and he grins at her dazed face. “You ready?” he asks.

Betty nods, gulping and quickly unbuckling her seatbelt. “Y-yeah,” she says, climbing out and following Jughead into the restaurant. 

Inside, she finds out he made _reservations_. When they reach their table, Jughead pauses to pull off his sherpa jacket and reveals he’s wearing his suspenders over the nicest shirt he owns. Betty’s throat goes dry.

“Betty?”

Betty blinks. “Sorry?”

“I asked if you wanted the bench seat or the chair,” Jughead says, pointing at the half-booth, half-table situation the hostess has left them with. 

“Um…” Betty points behind her. “I’m just gonna use the bathroom first.”

Jughead nods, a little confused, as she hurries away. 

_Holy fuck. Is this a date? Did Jughead bring me on a date?_

In the bathroom, she takes a minute to breathe and fan her face. Jughead looks _good_ in those suspenders. He held the door open in the car, kept checking that she was okay. It seems that in all Betty’s attempts to _not_ get her hopes up, she missed what was right in front of her. 

By bringing her here, Jughead is really putting himself out there. She needs to stop punishing herself, punishing _them_ by distancing herself and testing him to make sure he won’t bolt again the minute she gets too comfortable. 

She remembers what her field hockey friends said to her. _Guess they were right yet again_. 

Betty inspects herself once more in the mirror, fixes her hair and gives herself a seductive smile. “You got this,” she whispers, trying to adopt the kind of confidence Toni and Melody have.

Betty slips back into the booth, Jughead grinning at her over his menu. “How do we feel about sharing fried calamari?” 

Betty smiles, biting her lip. “We feel excited.”

“I knew I liked you,” Jughead teases, closing his menu and leaning forward. Betty watches him carefully. She feels like she’s holding her breath, the very thing she’d been daydreaming about for months suddenly within her reach.

The waiter comes by to take their orders before she can think of something flirtatious to reply, but a little tingle goes through her when Jughead says “we’ll share the calamari to start.” 

When the server walks away, she grins at him. “You sound so…”

“Bougie?” Jughead supplies, taking a sip of water while Betty laughs.

“I was gonna say ‘grown up’ but I guess that works too.”

Jughead laughs and explains, “I only say that because while I was away, I discovered that my grandparents are secretly bougie. We went out to so many restaurants like this one in Toledo, I was worried they rubbed off on me in the months I was gone.”

Betty raises her eyebrows. “Well, I guess that explains why they don’t like your dad.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jughead says, laughing. “FP Jones is the antithesis of bougie.”

Betty watches him as he stirs a straw absently through his ice water, shoulders relaxed in his chair. “You’re a little different now, you know that?” she observes quietly.

He looks up, surprised. “Really? How so?”

Betty blushes as her eyes immediately dart to his arms, somehow even more toned than the summer before. She thinks of the way he’d asked her to dinner, the fact he’d called ahead to make reservations, that he thought to ask which side of the booth she wanted to sit on. Something so...mature and confident about him had emerged in the months he was gone, it seemed, and it only endeared Betty to him more, if that was even possible.

Jughead must read her stare correctly because his eyes darken before she manages to reply. 

When she does, Betty surprises even herself by taking a little risk that makes her stomach swirl with excitement: “Just...you look good, and you seem more...self-assured this year.”

“Oh, that?” Jughead says, leaning forward so their faces are tantalizingly closer. “What else is a boy to do without Betty Cooper? I spent ten months doing nothing but writing introspectively and working out on my grandparents’ treadmill.”

Betty’s mouth drops open, the mental image of Jughead working out in his grandparents’ basement making her warm. 

“Excuse me,” a sharp voice says, and they both jump back a little as their server returns with a well-garnished plate of calamari, setting it between them where their elbows were nearly touching a second before.

“Thanks,” Betty says quickly, face red. 

Jughead grins at her when the waiter walks away. “You look good too, for the record,” he says, his eyes boldly trailing the neckline of her dress before he moves his attention to spearing a piece of calamari with his fork. 

Betty picks up her fork too, mirroring his actions as she tries to keep her hormones under control. They’re _finally_ getting somewhere.

It stands to reason that the universe would throw them one last curveball.

“This was a really good choice,” Betty says, gesturing toward the calamari. She’s about to say something more, maybe take another chance with a flirtation, when she sees a familiar flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye. 

Jughead smiles, then frowns at her worried expression. “What?” he hisses but his question is answered soon enough when ten seconds later, the hostess leads none other than Veronica and Archie to the empty table next to them on the shared bench. 

“Betty?” Veronica squeals, her face lighting up with surprise as Archie lets her take the bench seat. She squeezes Betty into a half-hug, and Betty feebly hugs back, in a complete daze. 

“It’s so good to see you guys!” Archie says, sitting down in the chair next to Jughead. “I’ve barely gotten to see you since you got back from Ohio!”

“Right,” Jughead says, clearly as unenthusiastic as Betty feels. 

“Oh, this is _fate_ , don’t you think, Betty?” Veronica says, hands flapping wildly around in excitement. “It’s been so long since the four of us hung out, and now here we are, seated together in Greendale!” 

“We’re _fated_ to catch up,” Archie agrees in a joking tone and Veronica giggles, reaching forward to squeeze his hand tenderly. Internally, Betty’s conflicted; she’s annoyed, and yet a larger part of her than she expected feels a sting of nostalgia. She’s missed these two.

In the moment Veronica and Archie turn away to stare into each other’s eyes, Betty exchanges a tense look with Jughead. His face seems to say the same thing she’s feeling: embarrassment, annoyance, the realization that they’re essentially trapped. Jughead shrugs in defeat, a sad frown on his face and she nods, a silent understanding. She’s not gonna tell Archie and Veronica to fuck off, to leave them alone, when Betty and Jughead never even verbalized to _each other_ whether this was actually a date. 

So when Archie and Veronica turn back to Betty and Jughead with expectant looks on their faces, they both muster fake enthusiasm.

* * *

Betty puts in a valiant effort, but it’s never been more painfully obvious how far they’ve drifted from their old friends as Veronica and Archie make unhalting, painful attempts at merging the two tables’ conversations. 

Especially when Archie (seemingly unintentionally) cockblocks, offering to give Betty a ride home since he lives right next door. Frustrated, Jughead agrees, exchanging a tense look with Betty before letting her leave with Veronica and Archie. Is it really _that_ hard to believe that Betty and Jughead could’ve been on a date? 

He sits in the truck till she must be halfway home, thinking of what he could’ve done differently. Then, unable to help himself, he fires off a text to Betty. 

**jughead:** I really wanted the night to last longer…

 **betty:** glad it wasn’t just me.

He smiles, leaning back in the seat and trying to think of something to respond, when she texts again.

 **betty:** pick me up on the corner of elm st and cardinal ave in 10?

 **jughead:** i’ll be there

He fixes himself in his rearview mirror, takes a deep breath, and finally puts the truck in drive.

She’s standing on the corner when he pulls up, eyes darting nervously around under the light of a streetlamp. There’s a look of relief on her face when she spots the blue truck. 

“Hi,” Betty says, a little breathless, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” he replies, watching her carefully under the streetlight. 

She shuts the door and lets him drive without saying anything more. A Washed Out song plays from his speakers and he remembers that concert they’d attended together their sophomore year, how he’d flinched with excitement every time their arms touched as they swayed in the sweaty little music venue. 

“Where are we going?” Betty asks after a few minutes of this quiet driving.

Jughead is surprised she’s even asking. “You know where we’re going,” he answers, voice filled with emotion. He’s determined to bring them to his intended destination; at this point he’s nearly ready to burst, but refuses to confess life-altering feelings while operating heavy machinery.

Betty blushes and turns toward the window, watching the trees pass as they head deeper into the forest. 

Everything feels so fragile right now, like if he doesn’t do everything exactly right it’ll explode. His hands are practically shaking as he makes each familiar turn. A part of him had been afraid he’d forget these Riverdale roads after months and months away, but they’re seemingly ingrained in him. He knows them the same way he knows Betty, like they can’t be forgotten because they’re essential to making him the person who stands here today.

He slides into the same parking spot as on his birthday nearly a year before, trying to read Betty’s expression as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, and she finally makes eye contact with him again. The look in her eyes tells him that everything is about to change.

“More than okay,” she whispers, pushing her door open. Jughead follows, his stomach prickling with nervous anxiety. He follows the rough plan he’d mapped out in his head: pulling his trusty blanket and camp lantern out of the trunk before they fall into step down the path.

“Thanks for bringing this,” Betty says, taking the lantern from him as he spreads out the blanket in the clearing.

“How else are you gonna make flower chains?” he jokes, sitting down on the blanket and making room for Betty. But she doesn’t move, standing still in the grass instead. He watches her as she scans the wildflowers, the water, the weeds, all illuminated by the little lantern. 

“I missed you so much,” she says and Jughead’s head lifts in surprise at the emotion in her voice. She sounds, if he’s not mistaken, like she’s about to cry.

Jughead pats the space beside him. “I missed you too,” he says, feeling his own desperation leak out. “Please sit down so we can...talk?” 

“But…” she looks right at him and it isn’t soft. There’s so much pain in her eyes, the kind he’s used to seeing when they’re talking about her parents or the racist kid at the game. Never him. “I just need you to know that you hurt me so much when you left. I know it wasn’t your fault, but I felt abandoned and I was just so...lonely. Like, I had my other friends, sure, but without you…” she trails off, and he can see that there are tears in her eyes. 

“It hurt me too, Betts,” Jughead says. “You know how many times I wanted to steal my dad’s truck and drive all the way back here?”

Betty’s face softens at that. She finally sits down, and he feels so much relief flood his chest. They’re finally getting somewhere. “Why didn’t you?” she asks, watching him closely. 

Her hand is spread flat on the blanket, and he reaches forward to cover it with his own. “I would drive across the country for you, Betty. But unfortunately the only other person I would do that for was begging me not to.”

Betty nods sadly and Jughead thinks that it’s so comforting to once again be in the presence of the person who knows him best. “Jellybean?” she guesses and he nods. 

“She gets why I had to come back with my dad though,” he says. “I’m so sorry,” he adds when Betty doesn’t reply, squeezing her hand. “I never meant to make you feel abandoned. There are a lot of things I wish I’d done last year...” he removes his hand abruptly, instead raking it through his hair as Betty watches him. He won’t lose his nerve now; not this time. “I should’ve kissed you the last time we were here.” 

Betty’s mouth drops open, but her face brightens for the first time since they’ve entered the clearing, and he takes that as a sign to continue. “You have to know by now that I like you as more than friends, right?” he says, wincing a little at the desperation in his voice.

She nods, biting her lip as she stares at him, challenging him to make the first move.

He reaches for her hand again, moves his body slowly toward her on the blanket. “Can I…?”

Betty scooches to meet him, grabbing Jughead’s face in her hands before he can finish the sentence, leaning in for the kiss they must both know is long overdue. “Jug,” she whispers before pressing her lips to his, and he truly can’t believe this is happening. 

He pulls at the bottom of her ponytail as they kiss, so slow and soft that he feels it in every inch of his being. She moans into his mouth and he feels his pants twitch, every sexual fantasy he’s ever had come to life.

In the months he’d been gone, Jughead had vacillated between thinking that he and Betty were a complete plot twist (Betty and Archie being, he supposed, the expected outcome) and between the more fairy-tale-like opinion that their love story was written in the stars. Or some shit. The Word documents in which he mulled this over would be seen by him and only him.

Whatever the fuck it is, this moment feels pretty perfect to Jughead. He’s never kissed anyone before (he has never counted the brief second that Ethel’s lips brushed his before he pushed her off out of mere fear and instinct) but he’s pretty sure this is what it’s supposed to feel like. Even better than he could have ever imagined.

When they finally pull apart to breathe, Betty whispers, “When you left, I was afraid this would never happen.”

“Me too,” he says, pressing his forehead to hers. “I just...I couldn’t bear the thought of telling you how I felt over the phone.”

“Same,” Betty whispers. “I like you as more than friends too, for the record,” she adds, her voice back to its usual dry humor and Jughead’s heart swells. 

He leans in for another kiss and she responds hungrily, twisting her hands through his hair and moaning when he bites her lip. The river babbles below them, crickets croak in the trees, and yet nothing seems to exist in the entire world but the two of them, making out in the lamplight. 

Part of him wonders, as Betty presses kisses along his neck, whether they should slow down. There are things they should probably discuss, right? She notices his hesitation because she pulls back a moment later with a nervous grin. 

“Is everything we’re doing okay?” she checks, and the concern in her voice just makes him want to kiss her again. So he gives her a peck on the cheek, wraps an arm around her shoulder, and pulls Betty tighter to him on the blanket.

“Everything’s good,” Jughead murmurs. “I’m just overthinking things.”

Betty laughs. “Isn’t that my job?” 

“I think we both do a pretty good job of it, honestly,” Jughead says, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

She grins up at him, pressing a kiss against his collarbone. “So let’s try not to think for once,” she whispers. 

As if to punctuate her point, Betty then confirms what Jughead had always hoped and suspected would be true: Betty Cooper likes to take control. Before he can even revel in the absolute sexiness of what is happening, Betty climbs into Jughead’s lap. 

She straddles him with a little groan when she feels his unmistakable hardness below her. “Is this okay?” she whispers, an echo of earlier, and he nods enthusiastically, capturing her lips in another bruising kiss.

She strokes her hands through his hair as he begins lavishing kisses down her neck. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs into her soft skin and does she know what he means? That he missed something they’d never gotten to have, that having Betty’s warm body in his lap feels like coming home? She must know at least some of it, because she tightens her grip in his hair, pulling his face up to meet her lips again. They kiss and kiss with the kind of hunger that makes him certain they’re both making up for lost time. 

A sharp vibration from Betty’s phone eventually brings them back to reality. “Ignore it,” she whispers, stroking Jughead’s arm as he checks the time, and he’s glad he’s not the only one who doesn’t want to stop touching. Now that they know what it feels like, Jughead is drunk on it, sure he could never get enough. 

“Ugh, it’s 11,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Betty’s cheek. Thoughts of the terrifying Alice Cooper come to mind. “I can drive you home,” Jughead says, though there’s clear regret in his voice. 

She sighs deeply, kissing him once more before finally hauling herself off his lap and onto her feet. “If we must,” she quips, smoothing out her dress. She touches fingers to her lips, smiling as she picks up the lantern and lets Jughead pull up the blanket. 

“It’s so beautiful here,” Betty murmurs, throwing her head back to look up at the glittering stars in the inky sky.

“We’ll be back,” Jughead promises, holding out his hand. She takes it with a shy grin and they walk back to the truck entwined. 

He opens the door for her, throwing the lantern in the trunk with the blanket before coming around the other side.

The second he gets into the driver’s seat, Betty is on him again, her lips pressing to his, then to his neck. She ends up in his lap again before he knows it, and she whispers, “I’m sorry. I just…”

“Nope, no apology necessary,” Jughead quickly argues before pulling her ponytail aside, making Betty let out an appreciative groan, and getting to work sucking on the side of her neck. 

“It’s even better than in my daydreams,” she says lazily, and Jughead pauses his ministrations to make sure he’s heard her right.

“You thought about _me_ in your daydreams?” he asks rather obviously and she giggles, playfully swatting at him.

“Duh, silly,” she says, and the way she sounds right now, Jughead realizes, is entirely new. There’s a curious, smug, maybe seductive lilt to her voice that he doesn’t recognize. Maybe it’s just for him, the version of him who she kisses and looks at like she wants to devour him. As if she can read his mind, Betty pulls him into another kiss, tugging at his hair, and he gets lost in her again for another few minutes.

“You’re trouble,” he whispers when they pull up for air again and she snorts.

“If I’m trouble, you’re trouble,” she counters. “And not in a _The Notebook_ way, in a we’re-the-same-level-of-nerd way.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “But in the interest of avoiding the wrath of Alice Cooper…”

Betty frowns, kissing him once more before finally sliding off his lap and returning to the passenger seat. “You’re right,” she says sadly and he grins.

“I should’ve known you’d be insatiable,” he quips as he finally backs out of the parking spot. She lets out a gasp, and a smirk plays at his lips.

“You should’ve known I’d be _what_ , Jughead Jones?” she repeats with mock-outrage.

“You heard what I said, Betty Cooper,” Jughead counters flirtatiously.

Betty giggles, collapsing back in the passenger seat. “ _God_ ,” she says. “I feel drunk and we haven’t had a drop of alcohol.”

Jughead feels pride swell in his chest. He can’t believe he’s capable of making Betty feel the way she’s made him feel for years.

“I think we’ll both be drunk on this for a while,” he responds, choosing his words carefully. He pulls to a stop at an intersection and turns to smile at Betty. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

She reaches forward and kisses him for as long as the red light allows. 

When Jughead lifts his feet off the brakes again, he realizes suddenly that they’re riding in silence.

“Put something on,” he says quietly, and she grins.

“Really, I get to pick?” Betty confirms in a giddy voice and Jughead laughs.

“I trust you,” he says and she excitedly swoops into the cupholder to scroll through his iPod.

She makes her choice quicker than he expected, dropping the iPod back down carefully and settling into her seat again with her head thrown back. 

“Betty, _yes_ ,” Jughead says when the opening notes to Rilo Kiley’s “With Arms Outstretched” starts playing, though he doesn’t let his eyes leave the road. If he does, he’ll surely be too distracted to get them home safely.

“I know,” she breathes out. “It’s perfect.”

The windows are down, and there’s nothing so calming as Betty humming and occasionally singing along, the wind whipping their hair as they head through the quiet night toward home. He grins as her gentle voice croons: _this day by the lake went too fast._

Jughead parks the truck a few houses down from Archie’s, immediately turning to face Betty. “Text me when you get inside so I know Alice hasn’t murdered you,” he jokes and she laughs, nodding, though the look in her eyes as she stares at him is serious and intense. 

“Thank you for doing this,” she says. 

He shoots her a confused look. “What, driving you home?”

She shrugs, shaking her head. “For asking me to dinner. For being the brave one. I…” Her face is flustered. “I like you a _lot_ , Jughead Jones,” she finally finishes.

Jughead’s face softens, his whole body vibrating from her words. Continuing to operate purely off instinct, Jughead slides a hand under her chin. She closes her eyes immediately, lips parting as he gives her a slow and sensual kiss. She responds enthusiastically, her own fingers gripping his shoulders as they both pour unspoken things into this farewell.

When they pull apart, they both have unbelievably giddy smiles on their faces. 

“If I don’t leave now, I’ll never leave,” Betty whispers before leaning forward and pressing one last lingering kiss on his lips. “Good night, Juggie,” she says, his old nickname in the new, velvety voice she’d adopted since first straddling his lap earlier.

“Until tomorrow, Betts,” he replies, though they hadn’t technically made any plans yet. 

Driving back toward the Southside, he tries to focus on the road as much as possible, though his mind keeps flitting back to that clearing, to finally kissing Betty in the darkness. He wants to bottle up this feeling and bathe in it, the certainty that Betty Cooper thinks about him in the same way he’s long yearned for her. By the time he finally pulls into Sunnyside Trailer Park, Jughead has already mentally drafted a rather lengthy text to send Betty when he climbs into his twin bed.

* * *

Betty wakes up the next morning beaming, her sheets a tangled and sweaty mess. _As it turns out, finally making out with the person you’ve been fantasizing sexually about for a full year only makes you_ more _horny_ , Betty muses. When she got home the night before, she ran up to her room, laying in bed doing nothing but replaying the evening’s events over and over again.

It didn’t hurt that Jughead texted Betty the second he arrived back at the trailer. She finally fell asleep sometime after 1 AM, when their conversation finally petered out seemingly due to mutual exhaustion. 

Betty sighs into her pillow in contentment, so relieved that neither of them had chickened out the night before. After Jughead picked Betty up on Elm Street and she realized where he was taking her, she, too, had silently declared that she wouldn’t let their moment pass again.

She finally rolls over to grab her phone and finds it’s only 8 AM; still, there’s a new text from Jughead underneath their “good night” texts from the evening before.

 **jughead:** morning betts <3

 **betty:** wow you’re up early! did you sleep okay?

 **jughead:** kept waking up from dreams about a certain blonde and a certain clearing

Betty grins, biting her lip and blushing. She can’t believe this is really her life. Adrenaline pumping through her as she waits for Jug to text back, Betty hauls herself out of bed.

 **betty:** sounds like you need some coffee and company ;)

The next text comes in so quickly that the little ping startles Betty as she balances her phone on her dresser while pulling out fresh underwear. (She burrows away this information about the winky face for future use.)

 **jughead:** pop’s?

 **betty:** thought you’d never ask ;) i can be there in 30 

**jughead:** you don’t need a ride?

 **betty:** that’s okay, I could use the walk. 

Indeed, Betty throws on her denim jacket and slips out the front door without encountering Alice. As she starts down the block in the direction of Pop’s, she takes in the fresh morning air, lets the 60-degree morning chill cool her flaming face as she thinks about seeing Jughead again. 

The blue truck is already parked in the lot when she arrives, and she can’t help but hasten her steps, opening the door to the quiet diner with the usual clang. Her eyes immediately dart toward the corner booth and sure enough, there he is, goofy grin on his face as he watches her. Betty bites her lip, smiling and maintaining eye contact as she walks down the row of booths until she finally meets him.

“Morning, stranger,” she says flirtatiously, nodding toward the two coffee cups waiting on the table. “Expecting someone?”

“Only my favorite person in the universe,” Jughead counters, eyes burning with affection and desire as he scoots down the booth and pats the seat beside him. 

Betty realizes that she’s never _sat on the same side of the booth_ with a boylike this before. In a town as small as Riverdale, the seating arrangement alone was enough to start rumors. The thought thrills her, and she blushes when Jughead immediately tightens his arm around her shoulder when she finally sits beside him.

“Did you order for me?” she asks, leaning in close.

Jughead shakes his head, pushing a coffee mug and creamer toward Betty. “Only coffee. What do I look like, a 1950s husband?”

Betty giggles, slapping at his arm playfully. “Dramatic much?” Still, she leans forward to prepare her coffee, her stomach swooping with excitement at the feel of his strong arm around her body. 

She’d be too embarrassed to say this to someone like Veronica or Cheryl, who have been “dating” since before they got their periods, but the idea of even hypothetically being the one with a new boyfriend everyone is talking about is a tiny bit tantalizing. _Boyfriend?_ Betty mentally notes that they’ll have to clear up that particular logistical technicality at some point today. They hadn’t quite gotten around to hammering out the details the night before. 

Betty takes a first sip of her coffee and lets out an audible sigh of contentment. Jughead grins meaningfully at her, and he knows they’re both thinking of the night before. _What was that word he used? Insatiable?_

“Hey, kids,” Pop says, sidling up to their booth with a grin that’s a little _too_ knowingly directed toward where Jughead’s arm is still perched around Betty’s shoulder. “How are you two...dare I say.. _.lovebirds_...doing today?” The expression on his face is the equivalent of someone crossing their fingers behind their back. 

Betty blushes, but nods. “We’re doing really good,” she says, looking to Jughead for confirmation, well aware her cheeks are burning up.

“Better than ever, Pop,” Jughead agrees, only turning from Betty to shoot Pop a smile.

Pop puts his hand over his heart. “You have _made_ my Sunday, children!” He finally pulls his notepad out. “So what’ll you have?”

Betty is now ready to fully burrow her face into Jughead’s shoulder. “Can I just get an order of waffles and a side of two eggs?”

“Scrambled as usual?” Pop checks, and she nods. 

“And Jug, I’ll just put your usual breakfast order in.” And with another nod of understanding with Jughead, Pop hurries away.

Betty turns immediately to Jughead. “Did you tell him something?” she asks, her tone accusatory.

Jughead puts his hands up in surrender, and Betty silently mourns the loss of his warmth on her shoulder. “I didn’t tell him a thing!” He smirks, leaning in close again and this time placing his hand on her thigh. “It must just be our chemistry, Betts.”

Betty giggles. “Jughead Jones, when did you get so smooth?”

Jughead shrugs, leaning back to take a sip of coffee. “I have _years’_ worth of Betty Cooper material saved up. You just wait.”

Betty’s mouth opens wide. “ _Years’_?” she repeats.

Jughead nods. She’s captivated by how much less nervous he sounds than the night before. “ _Years_ ,” he whispers in her ear, sending a shiver up her spine.

“You’re gonna tell me more about that later,” Betty says, grabbing her mug and taking a sip. “And just so you know, Jug, I don’t mind you ordering for me.”

Jughead narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” Betty says. “It’s not a gender thing, it’s a this-guy-knows-me-better-than-anyone and we’re-in-the-restaurant-where-our-friendship-blossomed thing.”

Jughead grins, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Noted.”

They settle almost too easily into conversation, Jughead suddenly remembering an update he needed to tell Betty about his Southside boxing story. It’s the same as before, but better, because now Betty can rest her head on his shoulder and Jughead plays with a lock of her hair as he laughs about one of the kids he interviewed at the gym. 

Betty and Jughead only pull apart when their food finally arrives, Jughead digging into his usual breakfast combo with a comforting gusto.

They both turn at the sound of a high-pitched screeching as a red convertible turns into the parking lot.

“Oh my God, is that Cheryl?” Betty asks, turning to watch the car continue its chaotic journey through the parking lot.

“Yeeesh!” Both Betty and Jughead cringe as the car almost scrapes a parked car, revealing that it’s not Cheryl but Jason Blossom behind the wheel. They both watch, riveted, as the elder Blossom sibling takes three tries to fit the car into a spot before finally climbing out and heading into the restaurant.

“What is he doing back here anyway,” Betty hisses. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jughead says at the same time, before finally returning to his toast. “Doesn’t matter how much money you have or how nice your car is, some people just don’t know how to park to save their life.”

Betty blushes, averting her eyes and taking a big bite of her eggs.

“Wait, Betts,” Jughead says, his voice half-concerned, half-teasing. “I almost forgot about your parking...deficiency. Did you end up passing your driving test?” 

She takes another bite of waffles, kind of appreciating how much he’s squirming. “I still feel bad about not being able to give you those parking lessons like I promised,” Jughead adds, throwing in his puppy-dog eyes, which finally have her giving in. 

Betty laughs. “It’s okay, Jug. Midge and Toni tag-teamed it in the end. Just the three of us and the old post office parking lot.”

Jughead looks sweetly relieved as he says, “So you _do_ drive now?”

“I don’t have a car to drive most days, but yes, Jughead Jones,” Betty says. “Believe it or not, I am a licensed driver in the state of New York.”

“Oh, really?” Jughead says. He takes a final bite of his toast, taking much longer to clear his plate than usual, which makes Betty feel smug—like she’s a distraction worth having. “Then what do you say we get out of here? You drive.” He jerks his head in the direction of the blue truck, parked thankfully far from where Jason Blossom had attempted his dismal parking job.

Betty smiles, taking a final swig of her coffee and throwing her napkin on top of her plate. “You’re on.”

Pop smirks at them as Betty pays the bill at the counter, but says nothing more. “Have a good day, Pop,” Betty says, challenging him to tease them further.

“Oh, I will now,” Pop replies with a wink as he hands her the receipt. 

Outside, Jughead only presses closer to Betty as they cross the parking lot toward the truck. 

“I like you in denim,” Jughead says, fingering her jacket. 

“Noted,” Betty says, and he smiles, throwing her his keys. She catches them just in time and they both laugh as they get into the truck, Betty grinning as she adjusts the driver’s seat to her specifications. 

“I’ve always dreamed of driving this bad boy,” she says in an exaggerated tone, gripping the wheel. 

Jughead laughs. “It’s your lucky day.”

She grins, leaning forward and grabbing Jughead’s face in her hands and giving him a firm kiss. “Yeah, it is,” she says when she pulls back. 

He laughs. “Wow, you’re corny.”

Betty flips him off playfully. “Strap in, Juggie,” she says. 

“Yes, m’am,” he replies darkly, and with one more check in her mirrors, they’re off.

Jughead busies himself picking a song on the iPod at first, giving Betty time to pull out of the lot and mentally decide on their destination. Pop’s heavy-handed comments combined with the unexpected glee she’d felt while sitting so close to Jughead in a diner booth influence her decision.

“Back to the River so fast, Betts?” Jug teases when he finally puts the iPod down and looks out the window to see where they’re headed.

“Yeah, but I’m taking us to Makeout Point this time,” she says, her eyes still trained on the road even as she lets a smirk overtake her face.

Jughead whistles. “Wow, you’re a good driver, a mechanic, _and_ you know how to show a guy a good time. You’re the whole package, Cooper.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Betty pulls into the secluded lane, gravelly and canopied by trees. It’s by far the least maintained part of Sweetwater River, and Betty is grateful to see that no one else has ventured here so early on a Sunday. 

“So?” she says, looking at Jughead expectantly after expertly parking along the treeline.

“A+,” he replies, pulling Betty into a deep kiss that has Betty gasping into his mouth before grabbing for his shoulders to catch up. 

When they come up for air, Jughead says, “That’s what I wanted to do earlier in Pop’s, but it didn’t feel appropriate for 9 AM in public.”

Betty laughs. “Probably not,” she says, playing with a loose thread on his Sherpa jacket. “But I’d have been okay with it.”

“What are you thinking about?” Jughead asks, his voice soft.

She looks up to find him watching her with a tender expression. “What you just said,” she admits, and it’s so freeing to not feel like she has to hide anything from Jughead anymore. That feeling, which had cropped up only a year earlier, had been foreign and gross and she never wants to return to it. She wants to tell Jughead everything about her, and she wants to know everything about him. 

“‘In public.’ I just...guess we never really got around to talking about…” Betty points between them. “What we are. But I just need to make sure you know what I _want_ us to be…”

Jughead looks nervous, so she grabs his hand and laughs. “I want _everything_ with you, Jug,” she says. “Starting with making sure we’re in agreement that we’re...what do the kids call it these days?”

“Boyfriend and girlfriend, perhaps?” Jughead says in a teasing tone, leaning down to kiss her knuckles. “Because yes.”

Betty smiles. “Facebook official?” she checks, a slight teasing to her voice, though as soon as the phrase leaves her mouth, she realizes some strange part of her wants it. She pictures it, in the blue color scheme and font that she’s come to associate with pictures of her peers holding red cups: _Betty Cooper is in a relationship with Jughead Jones._

Jughead surprises her though, by answering immediately, “Of course.”

“I thought you would find such rituals beneath us,” Betty teases. 

“Nah,” Jughead says. “I need everyone to know that I get to kiss Betty Cooper.”

Betty’s eyes darken at that, and she immediately climbs into Jughead’s lap in the passenger seat, relishing in his groan of approval when her ass grazes his groin. She keeps her eyes open for just a moment, long enough to see Jughead smiling into their kiss, one hand placed on her lower back and the other tangling through her hair. 

It’s barely 10 AM and here they are, kissing with abandon at Makeout Point. No longer beholden to a curfew like the night before, as the town of Riverdale slowly wakes up around them, Betty and Jughead get lost in each other. (As she’ll write in her journal later that night: _I finally feel alive in that way everyone’s always talking about_.)

Betty is the first to pull back, panting heavily. “Wow,” she says. “I guess we’re good at that.”

Jughead laughs, hands still in her hair. “Well, we’re making up for a lot of lost time.” He pauses, then adds, “Right?”

Betty shoots him an incredulous look, but upon realizing he’s actually anxious about her answer, Betty lifts his chin so he maintains eye contact as she replies, “I guess I didn’t get around to saying _this_ last night either but...here goes. I regret not kissing you on your birthday too. Because, you know that game you missed last season?”

He nods, sadness ghosting across his face. “How could I forget? I was deep in commuter traffic with my drunk dad passed out in the passenger seat when I should’ve been cheering for you.”

“Right. And _I_ was miserable at the Senior Day celebration, my actual plans for the afternoon having been cancelled.” Jughead looks confused. “See, I was planning on blowing off Trula’s and taking you out to the wildflower clearing from your birthday, and telling you how I felt about you. And you know...hopefully kissing you to make up for the last time.”

Jughead’s eyes widen, his hand covering his mouth. “You were gonna tell me you liked me last year?” he says, pure disbelief in his voice.

“I don’t know why that’s so hard to believe,” Betty teases. “Your summer working for Andrews Construction awakened some... long-dormant urges and feelings, shall we say?”

Jughead smirks, looking pretty pleased with himself before countering, “Well, you know seeing you in your field hockey skirt for the first time three years ago did the same for me.”

Betty feels her face heat up. “Really?”

“Really,” Jughead says, a smug look on his face as he grips her thighs. 

“Well, you know…we have a home game tomorrow.”

Jughead’s eyes light up. “I’m picking you up in the morning.”

Betty laughs loudly, and then they fall silent. She checks the clock. “You know, it’s still early,” she says. “What shall we do with our day?”

Jughead looks aghast. “Are you telling me you’re not gonna spend the afternoon studying and working on your college applications?”

Betty shakes her head. “I actually already submitted all my college applications,” she says.

“Same,” Jughead says in a surprised tone and Betty laughs, offering him a high-five.

“And I think I’ve earned the right to slack off on a weekend day for once.” 

“I agree,” Jughead says, reaching for her hand and kissing her knuckles once again. Betty can’t believe how _gentle_ this side of Jughead is, a side that only she gets to see. But maybe it shouldn’t surprise her too much; their friendship had always been different, gentler than any other. 

“Let’s go for a drive,” Betty says, finally climbing out of Jughead’s lap. 

“You want me to drive?” Jughead checks, watching her reach for the door.

Betty nods. “Equality, sir,” she jokes, pecking him as they meet behind the truck to switch seats.

“I drove a lot while I was away, you know,” Jughead says as they both strap back in.

“Whenever Hal let me use his car, I did that too,” Betty says. “I always listened to your mixes.”

Jughead grins. “Same with your mix. I’m surprised I didn’t break that thing, I listened to it so much.”

Betty reaches forward and kisses him again, just because she can. “Put your iPod on shuffle, and let’s just drive.” 

“Works for me, Betts.”

This is exactly what they needed—a drive, just a drive, listening to music and laughing and talking about things they’d been meaning to tell the other for months. Like, how’s Polly? How is JB, _really_? What were the kids at his school in Toledo like?

They gush about how much they both listened to the new Fleet Foxes album released while they were apart, singing along loudly as Jughead drives them out of Riverdale and through back-roads in the more rural part of the county.

Betty laughs when Jughead asks who she went to junior prom with in a nervous tone, her blunt “I went with _Toni_ , Jug, relax” making Jughead laugh so hard he has to pull over to wipe the tears from his eyes. (And Betty grabs him gently by the flannel, kissing him deeply to make sure he understands she’d have sooner gone to junior prom alone than with another guy.)

They stop in Greendale for more coffee and sandwiches, making up stories about all the patrons in the cafe they wandered into while they eat.

When they get back on the road, Jughead turns to her with a smirk. “So what else do you want to know, Nancy Drew?”

“How do you know I have more questions?”

“Out with it.”

“Ooookay, fine. Since last night, I’ve been wondering: what’s the deal with your grandparents being ‘bougie’?” Betty asks. 

“ _Maternal_ grandparents,” Jughead clarifies. “I’ve now met the paternal grandpa and that shit is...as you said, ‘the antithesis of bougie.’”

Betty laughs. “Yes, _maternal._ Did you learn anything new about your mom, being where she grew up for so long?”

Jughead nods, sighing. “You know how it is with our families, Betts. The more you learn, the less you wish you knew.”

Betty sighs too, leaning her head back against the seat. “That bad?”

Jughead shrugs. “It’s just weird, I guess. I always imagined my parents had both kinda...I don’t know, struggled, I guess? Maybe it helped me account for them being such shitty parents, you know? But I got their story from my grandparents’ point of view and my mom’s side of things, at least, looks a lot less pretty.”

Betty raises her eyebrows at that. “Intrigue.”

“Now you see why I garnered so much inspiration from those painful months,” Jughead says. 

“Aw, Jug,” Betty says. “They were really painful for me too, if it’s any consolation.”

Jughead laughs cynically. “I don’t know. Might’ve been cool if we could’ve not suffered at all. But I guess then we wouldn’t be us.”

“It’s hard being us,” Betty agrees and they both laugh again.

“Anyway, apparently my mom was actually an incredibly spoiled kid. The house we stayed in was much nicer than I expected. Like, the basement I stayed in was fully finished. I basically had my own room and they were bending over backwards apologizing about how I’d have to stay on a twin. Meanwhile, my dad’s staying on this bougie velvet couch every night.”

Betty bursts out laughing. “Holy shit, you could make this into a comedy bit.”

Jughead laughs. “I’m pretty sure I’m only funny to you, Betty.”

“Nuh-uh,” Betty says. “But so, how did your mom end up with FP then? Didn’t they…” she pauses. “...have you kinda young?”

“They did,” Jughead says, grimacing as he says, “Drunk FP has made it clear plenty of times that I was an ‘accident.’”

“Oh, Jug.”

“Well, it turns out my dad was an act of rebellion by a nineteen-year-old college student still living at home who got caught up with my dad. At that time FP used to drive a truck route between Greendale and Toledo, and he uh...did a little side hustle for the Southside Serpents, apparently, moving some drugs across the border.”

Betty gasps. “No way. I thought your dad was just a garden-variety alcoholic.” 

Jughead sighs. “As did I. But no, apparently my dad and my grandfather were both involved with the Serpents when they were younger, which I didn’t really know. My mom liked to hang out at the Serpent bar in Toledo to get away from my grandparents apparently, and that’s how they met.”

“Wow,” Betty says. 

“From what my grandma and JB said, my mom started going out with FP to piss off her parents but they ended up falling in love,” Jughead shrugs. “Which, I don’t know, I guess is a little comforting that they didn’t completely hate each other? It definitely didn’t seem like they hated each other when we were younger.”

Betty nods. “Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, I don’t think my parents ever liked each other that much. You were…” she chooses her words carefully. “Conceived by people in love, if only for a time. It’s a nice thing to know.”

“Yeah,” Jughead agrees, shooting Betty a little smile. “The pregnancy... _happened_ one of the times they hung out in Toledo, I guess,” Jughead wrinkles at his nose at the thought of his parents conceiving him. “And after they found out, my mom came back to Riverdale with him the next time he was in Toledo. They got married really quickly, and even though they really were in love at first, it clearly wasn’t enough,” Jughead finishes.

“Damn,” Betty says. “So, what about your grandfather? Your dad’s dad, you said?”

Jughead sighs, reaching across the cupholder to grab her hand. She giggles and strokes his knuckles. “Story for another day?” she guesses and he nods.

“Another day,” he repeats, looking up at her with guilty eyes. “I promise.”

Betty turns up the music on his stereo with her free hand and leans back. “Tell me about what you wrote while you were away,” she says softly. 

“Okay,” Jughead says. “So, I started this new series of interlocking short stories…”

.

.

.

Betty smiles at her reflection in the mirror and grins, an exhilaration running through her as she adjusts the pleated skirt of her trusty uniform. Ever since Jughead’s admission the day before, many of Betty’s own longtime fantasies have been colored even sexier. She can’t wait to see the look on Jughead’s face when she tells him she’s fantasized about fooling around with him under the bleachers—but she figures she’ll save that for a special day.

Betty has never been so excited to leave for school, shocking Alice with her chipper greeting and quick departure from the kitchen. (Betty refuses to let Alice Cooper damper her mood today.) As such, Betty is already standing at the end of her walkway waiting for him when Jughead pulls up in the blue truck. 

He rolls down the window, whistling suggestively. “Nice outfit, stranger,” he flirts and she laughs, opening the door to find two Pop’s to-go coffees sitting in the cupholders.

“Good morning,” she says bashfully as she climbs in, immediately leaning over to kiss him and letting her hands linger on his chest as she pulls back. “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had,” she jokes, strapping in and grabbing her coffee as Jughead pulls out onto the street.

Jughead laughs heartily. “Likewise, Betts.”

“So,” Betty says, tapping her foot. “You said you kinda have a _thing_ for this uniform?”

Jughead’s grin deepens, but he manages to keep his eyes on the road. “‘A thing’ is quite an under exaggeration, Betty. More like, ‘this uniform’s existence is what alerted my hormonal teenage body to my intense crush on you.’”

Betty can’t help but blush at that, countering suggestively, “We’re gonna stop in the _Blue and Gold_ office before homeroom, right?”

Jughead smirks and drives a little faster.

.

.

.

Betty doesn’t get a chance to pull Toni aside all day. They cram so many of the younger girls into her car that she feels it inappropriate to announce to the tiny space: “hey, guess what, I finally made out with my longtime crush! It does get better, kids!”

When the girls finally tumble out of Toni’s car in the Svenson parking lot, Betty immediately grabs her friend by the arm. 

“I saw your text,” Toni hisses, both of them hanging back and letting the youngins run ahead down to the field. “‘Events transpired?’ Could you _be_ any more vague? How was the dinner?”

Betty laughs, her face flushing involuntarily. “It was...in some ways a total failure, but in the long run exactly what we needed. We _finally_ kissed. And I mean, _kissed_.”

Toni shrieks with excitement, pulling Betty into an embrace. “Finally!” she says. “It’s what you deserve, honestly, Coop.”

Just getting to share this news with someone outside she and Jughead’s happy little bubble has Betty beaming as they finally lock Toni’s car and walk to join their teammates. 

“You _do_ know everyone’s gonna want to hear about this, right?” Toni says, laughing.

“That’s what the stretch circle is for,” Betty counters.

But they don’t even make it to the stretch circle. Their other friends are standing by the bench waiting for them, expectant looks on their faces.

“Was the dinner a date like I told y’all it was?” Valerie asks, and Betty grows suspicious that a bet might’ve been made without her knowledge.

But she can’t betray her smile. “It was a resounding success.” She clears her throat and Melody, Valerie, Ethel, and Midge press closer to Betty and Toni as Betty continues, “In short: he took me to dinner and yes, it was _definitely_ a date. We flirted. We drove out to the River and talked about our feelings, and then we kissed...like, a lot. And we determined that we’re an item.” 

“Yes!” Melody and Valerie yell, pumping their fists in the air. Alexandra, Roz, and Sabrina take notice and come closer to listen.

“We’re gonna need more details than that, Betty!” Midge insists.

“Yeah, you said y’all _kissed_ ,” Toni jokes, nudging Betty playfully. 

“Oooooh!” call the younger girls.

Betty shakes her head, face burning. “All will be revealed...when we’re not on the field right before a game!”

They all turn at the sound of the Seaside High bus braking in the parking lot, poignantly underscoring Betty’s point. Up in the lot, Penny stands by the fence waiting to greet the coach and refs. 

“Fair, fair,” Toni concedes. “Alright, girls, let’s huddle up for a stretch!”

“You _are_ gonna tell us more later, right?” Melody hisses at her once they settle beside each other in the circle, Val giving her a thumbs up from her spot on the other side of Mel.

Betty sticks her tongue out at them before whispering, “Yes! After the game, I promise.”

As they’ve done plenty of times before, the girls shake off their personal nonsense for an hour—this is perhaps one of the most meditative aspects of the sport to Betty—and stretch amidst Toni’s usual pre-game pep talks. 

Penny has them run a few corner drills, and Betty finds herself searching the stands for Jughead, bringing her a tiny bit of residual dread from the year before. Toni must notice her worry as they stand side by side around the circle, waiting for the defenders to set up. “Don’t even try it, Betty. You know he’s coming.”

Sure enough, Jughead shows up ten minutes later, as the team is huddled up waiting while the captains and coaches meet in center field. He’s looking a little breathless, and she watches him stop next to the bleachers and search the field for her before doing anything else.

They lock eyes—Betty’s grateful she hasn’t pulled her eye mask on yet—and he waves, grinning wide at her.

“Oooooh, Betty,” Melody whistles.

“That is _too_ cute,” Sabrina gushes.

“Okay, okay,” Betty says, face turning red as she finally looks away from Jughead so he can find a seat in the stands. “Let’s focus on the game.”

* * *

Jughead has attended every single Riverdale High varsity home game—barring the last game the October before—and yet he has never been so anxious about choosing his seat in the familiar metal bleachers. 

The last time he was here, he was still pining for Betty and wracking his brain for a plan to show Betty how much he cared about her. Somehow, in the week and a half since their last home game, all of that has changed. Jughead is Betty’s _boyfriend_. Betty is Jughead’s _girlfriend._ The labels still feel foreign and strange on his tongue, and yet the last 48 hours have undoubtedly changed everything, instilled a new confidence he hadn’t expected.

So when he spots Fangs sitting alone, in the front and center position he’s always avoided like the plague, Jughead decides to take a chance.

“Hey,” he says awkwardly when he reaches the fellow Southsider he could barely call an acquaintance, especially after his year away. 

Fangs looks up, surprised, and at first Jughead thinks he’s made a mistake, but then his face transforms into a smile. “Jughead! It’s great to see you. Midge told me you were back in town.” He stands up and offers Jughead a hug, which Jug accepts with a dazed smile. 

“Mind if I sit here?” Jughead double checks and Fangs nods enthusiastically, patting the space beside him.

“I’d love the company! Sweet Pea couldn’t come today,” Fangs explains. “And ever since Sabrina’s boyfriend dumped her, I’ve been the only field hockey boyfriend left standing anyway!”

Jughead’s face burns. “Well, I guess you’re not anymore,” he says and Fangs turns to him with a mischievous grin on his face.

“So, did you ‘man up and tell Betty how you feel’ like Midge has been ranting about for weeks?”

“Excuse me?”

Fangs puts his hands up in surrender. “Only repeating what I’ve heard from the girls, man.”

“Well,” Jughead says, unable to fully argue with that description. “I guess that’s one way of putting it. But, yeah, Betty and I are...together now. Officially.” 

“Happy for you two, man.” Fangs claps Jughead’s shoulder, both of them turning at the sound of the Seaside team huddle erupting in cheers, Riverdale High following not soon after.

“Go Bulldogs!” Fangs yells, standing up and clapping. Jughead quickly stands up beside him, clapping as hard as he can as he watches Betty run across the field to her starting position. She’ll never stop looking elegant to him in those moments, the concentration on her face as she leans down and faces her opponent intoxicating. 

The game begins, and Jughead finds he really does enjoy watching the game with Fangs; it makes him feel a little less crazy when he cheers wildly for Betty. 

As Ethel takes a penalty shot, Jughead turns to Fangs, remembering something Betty had told him. “Wait, what about Ben?” he says.

“Ben?”

“I mean, you said there are no ‘field hockey boyfriends’ left. Doesn’t Ethel date Ben?”

Fangs shrugs. “Ohhh, yes. He does. I don’t know. He doesn’t usually come to the games, but she seems to like it that way? Every part of their relationship that Midge tries to explain to me confuses me. All I know is, Ethel rarely brings him around.”

Jughead frowns. “Weird.” 

Fangs nods. “It _is_ weird. You’ve been to more games than any of the rest of us, man. You’re the ultimate ‘field hockey boyfriend’ in my book.”

Jughead scans the field for Betty, spotting her running up the field to receive a shot from Melody, and he can’t help but smile. Seeing that ponytail and pleated skirt grounds him in a way he never thought possible. 

“Guess I can’t argue with you there, Fangs,” he says without letting his gaze leave his girlfriend.

* * *

Riverdale High ties with Seaside at 1-1. (Toni scores a goal like the legend she is.)

The team huddle is elated and bursting with energy, matching Betty’s own new relationship energy that’s been overwhelming her for the past three days. Sticks rattle, sweaty girls hug and then stoop down to begin taking off their gear. 

And then, Ethel is corralling freshmen into her car and Betty has her sports bag slung over her shoulder, traversing the familiar path up to the lot. There’s something extra thrilling about spotting Jughead standing along the fence waiting for her, knowing exactly what his mouth feels like pressed against hers. Ever since they confessed their feelings, it’s been strange to slowly but surely bring into the open all the things she’s been thinking quietly about Jughead for the past year. She’s loving every minute of it, and this latest development—Jughead not even trying to pretend he isn’t ogling her legs and ass in the uniform—is especially satisfying. 

He’s standing next to Fangs with his hands in his pockets, though Midge runs ahead of Betty and quickly sweeps Fangs up in a passionate kiss—their usual M.O.—leaving Jughead standing alone patiently waiting for her. 

“Hi, Juggie,” she giggles. 

“Hey there, Betts.” They both flush a little, eyes darting toward where Midge and Fangs are still intertwined, and they seem to silently agree that as new as their relationship is, they’re definitely not suited for _that_ level of PDA.

Thankfully, Toni and Valerie come walking up behind her before they could even consider putting on such a show.

“Beanie Boy!” Toni calls. “Congrats on finally snagging the hottest girl in school all for yourself.”

“You better treat her right,” Valerie adds with a pointed finger.

Midge and Fangs, finally pulled out of their embrace, laugh. “Oh, please,” Fangs says. “Don’t come for my boy here. You know he and Betty are made for each other.”

“Aww, Fangs,” Betty says with a blush, moving closer to Jug and smiling up at him.

“So, it’s Pop’s time,” Toni says. “You’re coming with us, right, Beanie Boy?”

“Of course,” Jughead says without missing a beat. He turns to Betty. “Ride with me, Betts?”

She nods, handing him her field hockey stick to carry. “We’ll see you guys there,” she says to her friends, both of them laughing as Toni calls after them, “You’re stealing my girlfriend, Jones!” 

Once they’re finally in the truck, Betty leans forward to cup Jughead’s chin with her hands, giving him a soft and slow kiss. “Hey,” she says when they pull back. “Sorry. I’m still not sure how I feel about PDA.”

Jughead laughs, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t apologize; I felt the same way.”

“So, Fangs is your _boy_?” Betty teases as he pulls out of the lot. “Did you two bond during the game?”

“Uh, yes, Betty,” Jughead says in a sarcastic tone. “In fact, our half-time conversation was so great, I’m leaving you for him.” Betty laughs and he adds, “No, seriously, it was nice to sit with him. He’s a cool guy.”

Betty beams, watching the scenery pass and thinking of all the times Betty and Jughead had walked this path to Pop’s just the two of them, when they were just friends. If only they could see them now.

When they arrive, Ethel, Melody, and the younger girls have already claimed their usual booths, Betty and Jughead sliding in across from Roz and Sabrina. 

“Congrats on the tie!” Pop calls as Toni and Midge’s cars empty out into the diner, as Ethel had tipped him off the second she entered the establishment. 

“We’re gonna need a round of celebratory milkshakes,” Toni confirms, and Pop gets to work taking orders. 

Toni squeezes into the booth beside Roz, smiling at Betty, sitting next to Jughead with his arm slung comfortably around her. Jughead leans over to whisper something in Betty’s ear—a childhood memory about the jukebox that no one else would understand—and Betty almost forgets for a moment that they’re with her friends.

When she comes back to reality, Betty realizes Toni is watching them with a gentle smile on her face. “You two really look so perfect together. I’m so happy,” she says. 

Jughead blushes, burying his head in Betty’s shoulder, and Betty and all her friends laugh. “I think it’s time to toast to the tie, Toni,” Betty says. “Queen Jug can’t handle all the attention.”

“Correct,” Jughead says, muffled through Betty’s jersey, and the three booths erupt into giggles before Toni finally stands up to give a joke-filled toast to resounding applause.

* * *

There has perhaps been nothing more affirming in Jughead’s young life than how quickly he and Betty fall into a rhythm once they’re dating. 

Wednesday finds Jughead pushed back against the ancient, dusty shelves in the _Blue and Gold_ office, Betty’s firm grip on his shoulders holding him in place as they make out heatedly.

“Are you sure none of the other staff is stopping by?” Jughead asks between kisses, though he barely even wants to know the answer.

“No one else _ever_ comes in here at lunch, I promise,” Betty whispers, letting out a delicious “mmm” when Jughead sucks gently at her collarbone.

It’s only the fourth day Jughead has been able to call Betty Cooper his girlfriend, and he’s starting to understand the concept of a “honeymoon phase.” (Though he hates the implication that this particular brand of giddy joy will ever end.)

Betty arrived only ten minutes earlier, declaring that they must spend their lunch hour fully focused on their cover story on the Twilight Drive-In that Betty and Jughead are tag-teaming for the October issue. They ate quickly, then pushed their desks together and spread all their notes along it, standing entirely too close as they both leaned over to work.

With every brush of the finger and hand at her back, Jughead could feel himself heating up. And yet _Betty_ was the one who finally had enough, pushing Jughead into the shelves so fast he barely had time to keep up.

Now her hands are pushing through his hair, having tossed his beanie aside a couple minutes earlier, as their tongues mingle. They’re pressed so close that Jughead is sure Betty can feel how hard he is, and the thrill of pushing things to their very limit in school runs up his spine.

The next time Betty pulls back for breath she says, as if reading his mind: “Doing this _here_ is _so_ hot.”

Jughead takes it as a good sign to continue fingering at the hem of her sweater, and Betty grins mischievously. “There’s so much you can do _under the shirt_ ,” she murmurs, kissing him again as he lets his fingers float up the soft skin of her stomach. 

He reaches the delicate curve of the underside of Betty’s breast, a tease of more to come. 

“No one’s coming in?” he confirms, still just ghosting across her chest as she lets out a sharp intake of breath.

“No one,” she responds, her voice husky and seductive, a new Betty that he’s getting to hear more and more.

“Good,” he says before letting Betty continue to get lost in his mouth.

(Jughead truly never thought he’d reach second base with Betty Cooper for the first time in the newspaper office, but maybe he should’ve guessed it a lot sooner.)

* * *

The following night, Toni gives Betty, Roz, Sabrina, and Peaches a ride to Midge’s house for a pasta dinner, where her mom greets them with big hugs. 

“I can’t believe this is the last time I’ll be having you girls over for a pasta dinner!” Midge’s mom mourns as the girls toe off their dirty sneakers by the front door. 

Indeed, Midge’s mom offered to host at _least_ once a season, while Betty’s mom’s neglect and Toni’s parents’ practical nonexistence had kept either of them from doing so. Pasta dinners at Midge’s house started to feel like home to them ever since that first time Betty, Toni, and Ethel stayed late to help clean up. The idea that it’s coming to an end, like so many of these rituals, is a little difficult to bear.

“Well, you can count on us to dry some dishes for you,” Toni says. “For old time’s sake.”

Over baked penne and garlic bread, the girls talk about their chances against Baxter High and giggle about who Coach Peabody might be leaving practice early to see lately. 

Betty spears lettuce with her fork and tries not to choke when Sabrina asks Valerie for advice on “giving head.” (“Chill, girl, my mom’s in the other room!” Midge hisses, even as the entire table erupts in giggles.)

“So Betty,” Melody says at a pause in conversation, making a move to change the conversation topic to something more appropriate. “I got a peek at you and Beanie Boy’s chalkboard the other day when I was dropping off my drafts. What are you two cooking up?”

Toni grins next to Betty, and they exchange an excited look before Betty answers, “Jug and I are collaborating on a piece about the Twilight and how ever since the drive-in over in Seaside closed this summer, it’s the only drive-in left in the county. It fits into our overall theme of taking a look at how Riverdale is recovering three years after the recession hit.”

Toni nods excitedly. “And I’m doing my whole column on growing up on the Southside and watching it change, before and after the recession. It will be a great excuse to use my excessive amount of photos of boarded-up houses.”

Betty claps her hands together excitedly. “It’s gonna be a great issue.”

“Y’all trolling for another award, huh?” Melody says, pointing her finger in Betty and Toni’s direction.

Betty shrugs, beaming. “It’s our last chance, right?” Toni initiates a high-five with Betty.

Betty is quite excited about this issue; in their first brainstorming session that Betty had with Toni and Jughead after the initial _Blue and Gold_ staff meeting of the year, none of them could stop talking about Occupy Wall Street and how to apply it to the issue. Their choice to focus on how class and inequality are displayed in Riverdale after the recession seemed like a natural choice.

“What’s your column on, Mel?” Roz asks.

Melody grins wickedly as she replies casually, “Oh, just gonna write about Black women dating non-Black people of color, and the dynamic that creates.”

The juniors and seniors all stop their eating, staring at Melody.

“Did you do it?” Valerie whispers.

Melody nods triumphantly. “They don’t call him _Sweet_ Pea for nothing! And we have a second date planned for Saturday!”

The entire table erupts into roars of excitement as everyone cashes in on their bets. Betty shakes with laughter, though another part of her is mostly just pleased that the attention is finally on a different relationship than her own.

.

.

.

When the seniors finally leave Midge’s house, Betty feels equally grateful for the relative calm of Toni’s car. Toni throws on an old Bright Eyes album as they pull out of the Klumps’ absurdly long driveway. 

“So, Coop,” Toni says, tapping the steering wheel absently. “Beyond your big cover story, how _are_ things going with you and Jug?”

Betty involuntarily beams. “Oh, Toni, I don’t even know where to begin!” she says, and Toni giggles. 

“I mean, it’s just...you were right, you know? We were always such good friends, so in sync, and it’s like now that we finally mustered the courage to admit our attraction, we just slid so easily into being in a relationship. I’m...honestly kind of afraid that the other shoe will drop one of these days,” Betty says, finally alone with Toni and comfortable to let out her more deep-seated worries.

Toni grins. “Ah, ‘you were right.’ Say it again, but slower.”

Betty laughs. “I’m overthinking things, right?”

Toni shrugs. “Yes and no. I mean, the ‘honeymoon phase’ thing is real, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem for you two. As long as you work through any issues and communicate...I mean, I’ve never seen a more compatible pair in my life.”

Betty leans back into the carseat. “That makes sense,” she says quietly. “It’s just so magical when we’re together, I don’t ever want it to end.” 

“Do you two have plans this weekend?” Toni asks.

Betty nods. “We’re going to the drive-in tomorrow after the game. Thanks for that, by the way,” she adds and Toni grimaces. She’d begrudgingly agreed to forgo the mandatory post-game Pop’s, after the younger girls complained that their Friday night plans would be ruined. It was very unlikely that they had games on Fridays, but this was a football bye week; even playing on a different field than the football players, the athletics department still rarely schedules any other sport on football’s night. 

“Drive-in,” Toni says, whistling. “Business or pleasure?”

Betty smiles. “A little of both. They’re playing a double feature, and _Rebel Without a Cause_ is kind of our thing, so we thought we’d do date stuff during the first movie and newspaper stuff during the second movie.”

“You two are truly made for each other,” Toni says with an impressed snort.

.

.

. 

Friday afternoon finds Betty lagging during warm-ups on the field, blushing as Penny catches her searching for Jughead in the stands. 

“You can catch up with your boyfriend after the game, Betty!” Penny teases.

The next time Betty steals a moment to look again, she’s pleasantly surprised to see that Moose and Kevin are actually in the bleachers, sitting all the way up top. Kevin spots her and waves enthusiastically, and Betty’s heart warms. 

Somehow she managed to actually mend that friendship over the rest of junior year. After she offered the olive branch of going to the party, Kevin reached out and genuinely apologized for being so neglectful of their friendship. It wasn’t back to where it was before by any means, but they tend to meet up for a catch-up meal about once a month now, Kevin telling her about how his relationship with Moose is going (thriving!) and asking for Betty’s professional advice about growing his gossip blog. She mentioned the game in passing to him in one of their shared classes, but she hadn’t expected Kevin and Moose would actually use their rare Friday afternoon without football to watch her play.

She scans the stands and is almost excited to see that, for the first time, Jughead isn’t in the corner waving at her or spacing out while he listens to music in his headphones. Instead, he’s animatedly talking with Sweet Pea and Fangs in the front row, all three of them waving when they notice her staring. It’s never been easier to turn her back on the spectators and focus, with her girls, on the game. 

Although they lose 3-0, Betty feels incredibly excited and refreshed as she heads toward the lot with her sports bag slung over her shoulder. Jughead is waiting along the fence with Sweet Pea and Fangs chatting; Betty starts toward them before noticing that Kevin and Moose are cowering behind them in the parking lot, also awkwardly waiting. 

Jughead follows her eye line, seemingly surprised to see Kevin and Moose himself. 

“Hey, guys,” Betty quickly says to Sweet Pea and Fangs, who both give her warm greetings and compliments on her playing. “Would you excuse us for a minute?” She gives Jughead a meaningful look, and he immediately grabs her field hockey stick out of her hand to hold, throwing his arm around her shoulder as they walk toward their old friend.

“You played amazing out there, Betts,” Jughead says, pressing a chaste kiss on her cheek.

“Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones!” Kevin scolds when they finally reach Kevin and Moose. “Are you two _romantically involved_ without my knowledge?”

Betty turns beet-red but Jughead doesn’t seem to scare as easily. “To be fair, Kev, it took me a full year to find out about you and Moose.” 

Moose puts a reassuring hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “He gets a little upset when scoop happens without him figuring it out himself,” he explains, a look of affection on his face that makes Betty realize these two really are good for each other.

Betty laughs. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t break the story yourself,” she adds, patting Jughead’s hand resting on her shoulder.

Kevin finally gets over his initial shock. “I should’ve seen this coming,” he says. “I’m gonna reflect on how I can do better.” He pauses. “By the way, field hockey is actually quite fun to watch. And you are magnificent.”

“Yeah, thanks for coming! Sorry you didn’t get to see one of our rare wins,” Betty says.

“I enjoyed it!” Moose says.

“I genuinely wished I’d come sooner,” Kevin says. “So, is there some sort of post-game shindig you two will be getting wasted at?”

Betty laughs. “This isn’t football, Kev. The most wild we get is post-game Pop’s, but not today. Do you guys have some bye-week Bulldog rager to attend?”

Kevin shakes his head. “I think they might be throwing a party tomorrow night, but Moose and I are actually headed to a fabulous date. Or at least, that’s what Moose keeps saying. It’s a surprise.”

“Oooh,” Betty says. 

“We wanted to make sure we could come to the game first, though,” Moose adds quickly. 

“You know, Betty…” Kevin says, his voice much more glum than usual. “I asked Veronica to come along with me and she seemed like she was really considering it, but Cheryl scheduled some mandatory River Vixens practice instead of letting them have the afternoon off.”

Betty frowns. “Oh. Um, thanks for trying.”

“Their loss, Betts,” Kevin says firmly. “You were amazing out there.”

“She always is,” Jughead adds, his voice even firmer than Kevin’s.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re gonna say ‘hi’ to Midge before we go,” Moose says. Kevin gives Betty a hug and Jughead a wink before they walk away. Betty will never stop being impressed by Midge and Moose’s genuine ability to keep up their friendship even after their three-year romantic relationship ended.

“Have a great date!” Betty calls, grinning at Jughead when they’re left alone.

“Speaking of dates: do you need to talk to anyone else, or are you ready to blow this Popsicle stand?” Jughead asks. 

Betty looks around, finding most of her friends occupied. “I’ll catch these babes on Monday,” she says, leaning her head into Jughead’s chest. “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

If Jughead is being honest with himself, a date at the drive-in with Betty Cooper has always been his dream. Never mind that it’s _Rebel Without a Cause_ , which Betty and Jughead have repeatedly watched with an obsessive fervor ever since catching it on cable one rainy day the summer they were nine. (Archie, finding it boring, had played his GameBoy for half the movie; but not Betty and Jughead, they were riveted.)

So, yeah. Sitting in the back of FP’s truck cuddled up with Betty, cushioned by the mountain of blankets Betty pilfered from the Cooper linen closet, watching the opening credits of _Rebel Without a Cause_? Pretty much perfect in Jughead’s book.

The Twilight Drive-In has always had a certain romanticism to it, so Jughead welcomed the chance to write about it for the newspaper. They’re mostly observing tonight, having set up interviews with the owner next week, but they also decided to interview the various workers and theatergoers while they’re here. The second movie in the double feature is a less enticing action flick anyway, so Jughead doesn’t mind missing it for a greater cause.

Betty shifts underneath his arms and looks up at him. “Whatcha thinking about?” she asks softly.

Jughead shrugs, leaning down so their noses are gently touching. “You, mostly,” he says.

Her eyes close as she cups his face and kisses him, soft and sweet and _God_ , the fact that the familiar sound of one of their favorite movies is playing in the background makes this all so unbelievably perfect. 

She’s still wearing her field hockey uniform, having preferred to stop for food over stopping to change, and so it’s unsurprising when his hands instinctively drift toward the two inches of exposed skin between Betty’s jersey and her skirt. She deepens the kiss, adjusting herself so they’re more horizontal as they make out, Jughead exploring the ridges of her back with his hands as he internally tries to figure out how far one is supposed to push it at the drive-in. 

“Mmm,” Betty murmurs, letting her hands drift up under his t-shirt and beginning her own exploration across the expanse of his chest. 

He pulls back from their insistent kisses to murmur into her hair. “Betts, I’m so happy to be here with you.”

She pauses her motions and looks up at him with a dazed look of desire and affection. “God, sometimes the way you look at me makes me feel like I’m gonna melt,” she admits and Jughead blushes, a little stunned he’s capable of having that effect on _anyone._

“I’m surprised you weren’t on to my crush sooner then,” he teases, twirling a lock of hair around his finger.

Betty groans. “I _know_. Biggest regret of my life.” She begins pressing kisses along his neck and he throws his head back a little. 

“What was that shit we were saying the other day about PDA?” Jughead jokes, though he has no desire to slow down.

“Shh, it doesn’t count if it’s dark out,” Betty reasons, continuing her trail of kisses up along his chin and the slope of his cheek.

Betty finally reaches his lips and kisses him, slow and sensual. He responds eagerly, thrilled when Betty grabs his hand and guides it toward her thigh, just above where her famed pleated skirt ends. His breath catches in his throat but he doesn’t question it, just deepens the kiss and tries not to get too _excited_ as he strokes her soft skin and gets lost in their kisses. 

It’s almost halfway through the first movie when a peel of vicious laughter enters Jughead’s periphery. They’re pressed as close as they can be without breaking the unspoken code of the drive-in. (What _is_ that unspoken code? A new angle for the _Blue and Gold_ story? He tucks that one away for later.) 

Betty barely breaks their kiss to say, “Is that Cher…?” before they hear a patented Veronica shriek of, “ _B_? Oh my God!” and Archie’s confused voice sputtering out, “Betty...and Jughead?”

Jughead winces, something tightening in his chest that feels like frustration at the interruption more than anything else.

Cheryl whistles. “The last people I ever expected to catch in such a scandalous and compromising position!” 

“Yeah, look who’s finally losing their virginity!” Reggie heckles, and Cheryl laughs loudly. 

“ _Reggie_!” Veronica snaps in a chastising tone. 

Jughead looks down at Betty; their faces are still inches from each other, and she looks far more embarrassed than he’s ever wanted to see her. It almost reminds him of the days when she was constantly getting rejected by Archie. The feeling in his chest only hardens. 

Despite their jokes about being “Facebook official” the day they confirmed they were dating, Betty and Jughead have yet to actually pull the trigger. Spending time together with the addition of physical intimacy has been a much better distraction than scrolling through social media, it turns out.

And so, this is where Veronica and Archie finally put the pieces together: standing mere feet from where Jughead sits in the back of FP’s truck with one hand under Betty’s field hockey skirt and the other gripping her ponytail. 

When it becomes clear that their old friends are not planning to discreetly walk away, Jughead exchanges an exasperated look with Betty and they awkwardly rearrange themselves into a less-scandalous position, so Jughead has one arm slung around Betty. Betty expertly nudges a blanket over his groin before grabbing the hand hanging over her chest and gripping it, hard, as if holding on for dear life.

“I...wow,” Veronica finally says. “When we saw you at the restaurant, I guess I just never thought that...well, Jughead, I didn’t think you liked _anyone_. You two....you just seemed like such good friends.” 

Veronica’s face is flushed and confused, as if she’s somehow angry with Betty and Jughead for not confiding in her about their feelings. Jughead knows Veronica delighted in playing matchmaker for her friends in middle school; he wonders if a part of her always assumed she’d be the one to help Betty find a boyfriend. Maybe she realizes she doesn’t really have a right to expect insider knowledge; and conversely, nor do Betty and Jughead really have a right to know the latest in Varchieland anymore. It’s a strange and sudden slap in the face, that they know so little about each other’s lives now.

“ _Oh_ ,” Archie says, like he’s just worked out a really difficult math problem. “So _that’s_ why you always went to the field hockey games, Jug. I always wondered about that.”

Jughead’s fists curl up instinctually at that one. There have been plenty of times over the years when he’s talked himself down from screaming at Archie or punching him flat in the face, many times when Archie took Betty and Jughead’s friendship for granted even before high school formalized the divide between them. Jughead has always been able to de-escalate, to reason with himself that not causing a scene will surely be better off for everyone in the long run.

Not this time.

“I didn’t go to Betty’s field hockey games because I was _into_ her. That was just an added bonus,” Jughead says, his voice so venomous and harsh that he notices both Veronica and Archie flinch. 

Reggie and Cheryl hang farther back, though they seem surprised too; beside him, Betty tightens her grip on his hand, but says nothing. 

Jughead keeps going, knowing he’ll lose his nerve if he doesn’t press on, “I went to Betty’s games because she _asked us_ _to_ , all of us, freshman year when she first started playing. And she’s my best friend and she was exploring something new and I wanted to support her. That’s what good friends do. And yet you, Archie and Veronica, over the past nearly four years, haven’t been able to find a single time to come around to Svenson? Not a single hour when you might be able to set aside some time to see Betty play?”

Veronica’s mouth is set in a hard line, arms across her chest. She looks guilty and like she has nothing to say, her eyes trailing the ground when Jughead tries to even make eye contact. Beside her, Archie opens his mouth to argue, but Jughead continues on, “You know, there was a game tonight, as I’m sure you can tell.” He gestures toward Betty’s field hockey uniform. “And I know there was no football game, because Moose and Kevin came to support the team.”

Veronica reddens then, and he remembers that Kevin said he invited her to come along. 

Adrenaline kicks in, his erection long gone now, and Jughead stands up in the bed of the truck, pulling Betty with him. For the first time since he started ranting, he looks straight at Betty. She’s red-faced but just watching him, expression soft. She follows him when he hops down, waiting to hear if Archie or Veronica are planning to offer some half-hearted apology, but the blank faces he sees somehow infuriate him even more.

“So you guys can act all surprised that me and Betty got together without telling you, or that you don’t know anything about our lives, but you’re the ones who made the first move. Don’t forget that!” Jughead says, storming away so quickly that Betty ends up having to jog after him, reaching for his hand when she catches up.

Neither of them turn to look back at their old friends, surely stunned behind them.

* * *

Of all the things Betty expected from this first drive-in date with Jughead, being weirdly turned on by his defensive, dramatic speech to their old friends was not one of them.

After he storms off, she leads him to the concession stand, pulling him aside to give him a soft kiss on the forehead and thank him for what he said. He almost immediately melts into her arms, the fight leaving him almost as quickly as it had come.

“Sorry for getting so angry,” he says, his eyes filling with guilty tears that she immediately wipes away with the pads of her fingers. “For some reason, I just couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

Betty shrugs. “It needed to be said. And their lack of response makes me think they knew that too.”

Jughead nods, wiping a final tear from his eye. “I need food,” he grumbles, and Betty giggles, pulling him by the hand toward the end of the concessions line. 

“Anything you want, Jug,” she coos, and he kisses the top of her head.

After devouring ice cream cones, Betty waits for Jughead outside the men’s bathroom holding their bucket of popcorn. She shifts from foot to foot and mentally drafts a path they can take once he emerges in order to get all their interviews done. This little drama had taken away from their movie time, and now they’ll have to make up for it.

She’s so engrossed in her newspaper thoughts that she doesn’t notice Veronica and Cheryl sidling up to her, nervous looks on their faces, until Veronica says softly, “Betty.”

She turns with a start, a couple popcorn kernels flying out of the bucket. “Shit, you scared me,” she whispers. “Hey, V, Cher,” she adds, quieter, unsure how to continue.

“Look, we’re really sorry,” Veronica says. Cheryl nods from where she’s standing slightly behind Veronica. “There’s no excuse for how we’ve treated you and Jughead these last few years. And I’m sorry for...upsetting you guys. I’m happy for you, that you’re together.”

“Thanks for saying that, V,” Betty says, a painful tugging in her chest. 

Veronica continues, her tone nervous, “I guess...you guys didn’t really seem interested in our stuff either. So we just…”

Betty nods feebly. “...Grew apart,” Betty finishes, and Veronica looks a little frightened at the words spoken so plainly, after all this time. “You’re right. I mean, at least I mostly stopped going to football games after freshman year.”

Cheryl’s arms are folded across her chest. “We’re sorry, Betty,” she repeats. Her voice is probably the most sincere Betty has ever heard it, but the fact that Cheryl has nothing more to say—and that Betty doesn’t expect her to—makes Betty realize that even their middle school friendship had never been as deep as her thirteen-year-old self thought. Even Toni’s on-and-off-again romance with Cheryl hadn’t bridged the ever-growing gap between them.

Veronica looks like she has something more to say—Betty’s own brain is sorting through hundreds of unspoken words she needs to tell her once-best friend—but then Jughead emerges from the bathroom, his face turning suspicious when he spots Cheryl and Veronica.

“Hey,” Betty says, trying to shoot him the kind of warm smile that says everything’s okay. 

Before Betty can say anything more, Veronica quickly says, “We were just looking for you guys to apologize. We’re really sorry that we drifted apart so much, that we’ve been such shitty friends to you both. And about our reaction to...what we saw. It wasn’t right.”

Jughead nods, his expression neutral as he digs his hands into his pockets. “Thanks, Veronica,” he says, and she nods, perhaps realizing this is the best they’re gonna do tonight.

“Well, we’ll let you two enjoy the rest of your date,” Veronica says, grabbing Cheryl by the hand. “Get home safe.”

“You too,” Betty says softly, and then they’re gone.

“Long fucking day, huh?” Jughead quips once they’re out of earshot. 

Betty snorts, though her face remains sad, her body going a little limper once she no longer has to perform for them—she never has to _perform_ for Jughead. 

“You okay?” Jug asks, a hand at the small of her back.

“Yeah,” Betty says, swallowing and carefully choosing her words. “It’s a nice gesture and I really do forgive them.” 

They start walking back in the direction of the truck, Jughead’s arm solidly around her. _She could get used to this._ “But it doesn’t really change anything. We drifted apart. It happens to the best of us. We just...went in different directions. I’ll always love them, but it’ll never be the same. And maybe that’s okay.”

Nevertheless, as they begin canvassing the field for patrons to interview, Betty knows that she’ll be thinking about what Veronica said for days.

.

.

.

“Do you have it?” Betty asks Jughead in that seductive voice she’s recently found does the trick of getting her what she wants. 

“Let me just finish my sandwich first, Betts,” Jughead protests around a bite of the ham-and-cheese FP made for him that morning, a by-product of his latest attempt to be a decent dad “ _this_ time.”

Betty bites her lip impatiently, watching Jughead devour his sandwich and trying to decide if she wants to devour _him_ or get this annoying little task done. It was stuck in her brain all weekend, ever since she heard Reggie and Cheryl’s jeers when they saw Betty and Jughead making out in the back of his dad’s truck. As if she wasn’t already overanalyzing her burgeoning sexuality enough, she thinks bitterly.

Even though she can say with absolute certainty that she’s seen every one of them—Reggie, Veronica, Archie, and Cheryl—do a _lot_ worse in public, their taunts had made her feel insecure once again. _Am I too sexual? Am I not sexual enough? What does that even_ mean _?_ Her mind was plagued all weekend. One thing she concluded is that she does _not_ want to go back into her shell. Betty likes who she becomes when she and Jughead let themselves be free. Anyway, she woke up this morning (from another drive-in sex dream that weirdly morphed into a fight with Cheryl and Veronica) with the thought in her head: _we’ve gotta update our damn Facebook relationship status._

“I’ll give you my chips if you give me your laptop now,” Betty blurts out, unable to wait a second longer, and Jughead laughs, though he puts his sandwich down and reaches into the backpack sitting at his feet.

“Here you go, Betts,” he says, handing her his laptop. “Make an honest man out of me.”

Betty laughs. “Ha-ha, Jug,” she says, flipping it open and typing in the password she’d memorized years ago. 

She laughs when she opens Jughead’s internet browser to find that he isn’t even logged into his Facebook account. “You’re something else,” she says, quickly typing her own password in. 

Jughead finishes his sandwich and stands up to throw away his trash, wiping his hands on a napkin before coming up behind Betty. His hands find purchase on her back as he looks over her shoulder.

Betty feels her stomach prickle with nervous excitement as she clicks on the “edit profile” button, scrolling down to where “relationship status” is, where it’s never said anything more than “single” or “Married to Kevin Keller” back when changing your relationship status to be fake-married to your friend was a thing back in like, 2008. 

She picks “in a relationship” from the dropdown menu and then starts typing Jughead’s name into the little box. She lets out a little “uch” when a kid she knew from her old summer internship named Jude comes up before she can type in the “g.” 

Jughead laughs. “Who is this guy? Do I have to beat him up?”

Betty swats him playfully. “Oh, shut up. There you go, see.” She gestures at the screen, where Jughead’s profile photo—three years old and taken by Betty in his usual corner booth at Pop’s—has shown up next to his name. 

“In a relationship with Jughead Jones,” she says, hovering over the “confirm” button and watching with bated breath as the page refreshes. _Pending_.

“Great.” She quickly logs out and turns around to push the laptop into Jughead’s hands. “Your turn.”

Jughead looks confused. “What do you mean, ‘my turn?’ Didn’t you just do it?”

Betty laughs. “ _No_. You have to go in and accept my relationship request first. Until then it’ll just say I’m ‘in a relationship.’”

Jughead looks incredulous as he sits back down at his desk with the laptop. “So I have to log in to verify our relationship?” he jokes. 

Betty shrugs. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“Ah, fuck,” Jughead grumbles. “What’s my password?”

“Oh, God,” Betty says, laughing. “When’s the last time you logged in?”

Jughead laughs. “How many days since I finally saw you again?”

“What?”

“Fuck, second try failed. Should I just reset this password?”

“Wait—are you saying you only used Facebook to stalk me before we got together?”

“Can you just get over here and help me right now, Elizabeth?!”

(They _do_ have to reset the password.)

Still, thanks to Betty’s finessing, only ten minutes later, Jughead has managed to “accept” Betty’s request, instantly publishing a post to all their classmates’ feeds with a randomly-generated photo of Betty and Jughead at the eighth-grade dance: _Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones are in a relationship._

“It’s kinda nice to see in writing,” Betty says, looking down at the screen. Jughead grins, closing the laptop and grabbing Betty gently by the shoulders. 

“Oh, yeah?” he says, slowly walking her back against the bookshelves. 

“Yeah,” she whispers before giving in and grabbing his face in her hands. They’re full-on making out against the shelves in no time, Betty groaning as Jughead lets his hands wander up her stomach and ghost across her nipples, just little, teasing, almost-touches that have her clenching her thighs together.

“ _Whoa_!”

Betty and Jughead quickly pull apart at the sound of Toni’s voice. “Glad to see you two are wasting no time!” she teases.

“Toni, fuck!” Betty says, face reddening. “I’m sorry.”

Jughead looks entirely too pleased with himself, on the other hand, though he removes his hands from Betty and shoves them in his pockets before pointedly standing behind one of the desks.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Toni says, dropping her backpack down on a chair and pulling out a couple manila envelopes. “Y’all _do_ know you left the door open though, right?” 

Betty bites her lip, not wanting to verbalize the first thought that comes to her mind: _that’s kinda why it’s hot…_

“What do you have for us, Topaz?” Jughead asks, his voice wobbling a bit, and Toni looks up at him with a devilish grin on her face.

“Oh, Jones,” she says. “Now I can _finally_ say this: I’ve known about your crush on our beautiful Betty here since the very first home game our freshman year.”

Jughead’s face burns. “You’re quite perceptive, Toni,” he says. “Seeing as that was also the day _I_ learned about my crush.”

Toni’s face breaks out into a huge grin and she offers Jughead a fist bump. “I can respect being charmed by a beautiful girl in a blue and gold skirt,” she explains to Jughead’s confused face. Betty laughs loudly as Jughead and Toni’s fists finally touch. 

“I’m obviously gonna continue to roast the two of you about this for years to come,” Toni says as she walks back to the desk and starts pulling photos out of her envelopes. “It’s my right.”

Betty shrugs, grabbing Jughead lovingly by the arm and conceding, “Okay, that’s fair. However, Toni, I reserve the right to roast you about your weakness for Cheryl Blossom.”

Toni laughs heartily as she spreads the photos out along every usable surface. “Deal, Coop. I think I need to be roasted about that more often.”

Betty lets out a knowing laugh of her own and comes to meet Toni at the desk, peering at each of Toni’s assignments. Toni has always been very indecisive about her photography, usually bringing Betty a surplus of shots to choose from for each story. 

As she watches Toni continue to lay out her photos, she realizes with a pang how much she’ll miss this. Even if she continues with journalism in college—which, contrary to popular belief, she’s not actually sure she wants to do—it’ll never be the same as standing in this room with her best friend and her boyfriend, trying to decide which photo works best.

Jughead ambles over to join them, asking offhand: “So, what exactly happened with you and Cheryl, if you don’t mind me asking? I got a very clipped version from Betty when I first got back.”

Toni frowns, considering. “Hard to even explain. It’s like, the two of us have been flirting since sophomore year, and when we finally...got together…on New Year’s, it was like all the tension exploded and it was amazing.”

Jughead whistles. “I cannot imagine applying that energy to Cheryl Blossom, but to each their own.”

Toni laughs. “Fair. But I guess that was the easy part, our chemistry. Everything else since then has been nothing but hard.”

Betty frowns and brings a comforting hand to Toni’s shoulder before turning to explain to Jughead, “Believe it or not but Penelope and Clifford Blossom turned out to be _huge_ homophobes!”

Jughead clicks his tongue with distaste. “Should’ve guessed it,” he says darkly.

“Yeah,” Toni says sadly, leaning back against one of the desks, as she’s finished spreading out her photos. “It’s done a number on Cheryl, and that’s not her fault, you know. She has a lot to work through and don’t we all. It sucks that her parents aren’t accepting. But it also sucks that it’s been taken out on _me_ so much. There are only so many times I can get stood up or ignored for days on end.”

Betty frowns knowingly, having heard all of this before, but Jughead seems shocked. “Shit, Toni,” he says, and Betty realizes it’s probably the softest she’s heard them talk to each other. Her friends had taken on more the begrudging-acquaintances-level of teasing with one another, but Betty usually discusses vulnerable stuff with Toni and Jughead one on one, respectively. To see her worlds merging like this makes Betty heart happy, even despite the somber conversation topic. 

“I know,” Toni says. “I probably should’ve expected this from Cheryl Blossom, right?”

Betty shrugs, all three of them bursting into laughter when Jughead and Betty both involuntarily pull a face.

“I know, I know,” Toni says when they all catch their breaths. “I think I just have, like, a thing for mean girls? We’ll see.” She shrugs. “Honestly, if Cheryl wants to like, hook up or hang out every once in a while, I’ll do that. It’s senior year and there are only so many gay girls in Riverdale. But I’m just...not really expecting anything serious from her anymore. I’ll be out of here next year, and there will be plenty of new girls and guys to meet at college.”

“That’s the spirit!” Betty says in a cautiously excited tone and Toni laughs.

“That sounds healthy,” Jughead contributes.

“Well, I’m glad you think so, Jones,” Toni says. “Hey, wait. How did we manage to go from me catching Jughead with his hand up Betty’s shirt to us analyzing my relationship problems?”

Betty and Jughead both immediately put their hands up in surrender, and Toni laughs heartily. “Oh, you two are good.”

“Okay, but seriously,” Betty says when Toni finally catches her breath again. “Let’s take a look at these photos?”

“Yes! We definitely need to do better about that whole work-before-play thing,” Jughead jokes. 

Toni and Jughead begin circling the desk, talking about each photo and weighing pros and cons of similar shots, while Betty follows at a slower and more unfocused pace. What Toni had said about meeting new people in college...it made Betty realize that, despite having thought about little else but her college applications over the past four years, she and Jughead have managed to skirt the topic since they started dating. Has she been purposefully avoiding it? Has he? 

“Coop!” Toni says.

“Yes?” she asks, quickly startled out of her thoughts.

“We need you to be the tiebreaker for the robotics team shot,” Jughead explains.

Betty grins, swallowing down her worries and refocusing on the photos and her friends’ expectant faces instead.

.

.

.

Later that night, after Alice has gone to bed, Betty tiptoes downstairs and logs on to the desktop in the living room. She opens up her Facebook with nervous excitement; all day since lunch, she’s been wondering what her peers have been commenting since they made their relationship as public as can be for two teenagers in 2011.

Part of her is still worried, haunted by the voices of Cheryl and Reggie, which her anxiety has surely made even more ghastly in the days since it happened. Like, _will there be teasing, mean comments waiting for me on Facebook too?_

The answer, like most of her anxiety-induced worst case scenarios, is no. Betty logs in and is welcomed by a barrage of notifications, her face warming as she begins scanning her post. 

“Wow,” she whispers to herself. “ _Eighty-three_ likes? I didn’t know that many people cared.” 

She raises her eyebrows at Veronica’s “So happy for you two <3” and notes that Archie “liked” the post but didn’t bother to leave a comment. The rest of the comments simply have her beaming from ear to ear.

 **Melody Valentine:** yessss couple of the year! Love y’all! <3 <3 <3

 **Fangs Fogarty:** you better treat my boy right, cooper! ;)

 **Ethel Muggs:** YAY!

 **Kevin Keller:** still a *tiny* bit bitter i didn’t break the story myself, but truly SO happy for you two lovebirds ;) <3 #bughead 

**Josie McCoy:** OMFG YESSSS! So happy for y’all, i called this shit *two years ago*, right @ **Pepper Smith**?

 **Pepper Smith:** @ **Josie McCoy** can confirm! i am LIVING for this update, Betty! sending you both all the love and good intentions for your new relationship <3

 **Valerie Brown:** FINALLY! <3

 **Midge Klump:** oh my god whaaaat??? Jk FINALLY <3 love you guys

 **Antoinette Topaz:** called it first and don’t you ever forget it!!!!

 **Antoinette Topaz:** p.s. I love you both

Betty reads and then rereads the thread, inspecting the list of classmates who had “liked” the post with much-too-careful scrutiny. Then, not wanting to push her luck any further, she logs off and sneaks back upstairs, waiting until she’s safely under the covers to shoot a text off to Jughead. She _knows_ his night-owl ways will have him still awake, easily.

 **betty:** hiii! <3 have you been on fb since lunch?

 **jughead:** is this a trick question? 

**jughead:** (you know the answer is no) <3

 **betty:** lol well go look!!! 

**betty:** it’s actually all...really nice

 **jughead:** ok ok gimme a min

 **jughead:** r u sure we know this many people???

 **betty:** HAHA no. but they seem happy for us.

 **jughead** : well, i’m glad you convinced me to do it. now everyone knows i’m the luckiest guy in school.

 **betty:** who’s corny now, huh????

 **jughead** : call it even?

 **betty:** hehe okay deal ;)

 **jughead** : now isn’t it past your bedtime?? You’re an athlete for god’s sakes, betty!

 **betty:** LOL fine you may have a point. good night jug <3

 **jughead** : good night beautiful <3

* * *

Driving along the highway, Jughead bobs his head to the music blaring from his speakers as he thinks about what a strange couple days it’s been since Betty and Jughead became “Facebook official.” He’s been congratulated in the hallway by far too many hypermasculine guys than he’s entirely comfortable with. And yet, amongst that strange parade of well-wishers, Archie Andrews has been nowhere to be found. Jughead knows it’s his fault they haven’t spoken since the drive-in, given his outburst, but he hasn’t had the heart to reach out. Some deeper part of him is still angry at Archie, and he hasn’t really had the bandwidth to interrogate why.

He shakes the thought from his head, smiling as he passes a sign letting him know that Stonewall Preparatory School is only two miles away.

No one knows that he’s doing this, not even Toni; he’d managed to get all the info he needed off the various athletic department websites. He had a hard time keeping a straight face when Betty kissed his cheek earlier on her way out of their shared eighth-period class to make the bus for her away game. He waited until the second the bell rang, then bolted for the senior parking lot. He can miss _one_ day of ninth-period calculus, he figures. 

Jughead grins, turning up the music. He can’t wait to see Betty’s face when she spots him in the stands at Stonewall.

When Jughead arrives at the expensive prep school, he can barely believe his eyes. A freshly-painted sign directs him toward the “Stonewall Preparatory School Athletics Complex,” where he navigates a gigantic parking lot in search of which athletic field belongs to the field hockey team. He lets out a breath of relief when he finally spots the yellow Riverdale High school bus parked near one of the outermost fields. He does a loop around and spies a gate emblazoned with a logo of two interlocking field hockey sticks. His heart racing with excitement, Jughead pulls into a spot as close to the field as he can manage.

Jughead takes a deep breath, checks his reflection in his rearview mirror, and heads across the vast parking lot toward the field. There’s a smattering of uniformed teenagers standing around outside the gated entrance; he pauses a couple feet away to check the time on his phone, letting out a little sigh of relief when he realizes he’s still fifteen minutes early for the game’s scheduled start time. 

He’s just responding to a text from Jellybean and tucking his phone away when he hears a pretentious voice exaggerate, “Have you _seen_ that band of ragamuffins Donna has to play against today? Talk about slumming it.”

He hears snickers, then a snobbish feminine voice adding, “I’m sure they’ll be mercying them in no time.”

“I just didn’t realize it was possible to look so poor from just your _uniforms_ alone, but that’s Riverdale for ya,” the male voice replies and Jughead’s face heats up as he finally spins around to face them with his hands curled into fists. 

“I know! They have to be the most pathetic excuse for a team I’ve ever seen,” continues the girl, whose dark hair is tied into two tight braids. 

“Good one, Joan,” the boy, with a very punchable face and a mane of overly-coiffed blonde hair, says with a chuckle.

“Actually, I have to disagree on that one, _Joan_ ,” Jughead spits. 

The two preppies turn in shock, both scanning Jughead’s usual flannel and Sherpa get-up. 

“Oh, look,” the boy says in a jeering tone. “Occupy Wall Street here must be the Riverdale cheering section.”

Jughead clenches his jaw almost as tight as his fists as he lunges toward the guy. “Classist scum!” he manages to get out before a Stonewall teacher calls, “Bret! Stop fraternizing with the enemy and move it along.”

“Bye, _Bret_ ,” Jughead says in a mocking tone, letting the pair of snobs walk through the gate ahead of him. 

He tries to shake it off and again imagines the look on Betty’s face when she spots him. He’s definitely gonna pick a seat far away from those two assholes. 

* * *

Betty marvels in the feel of Stonewall’s absurdly-nice turf under her feet as they run warm-up drills. At first, as Betty jogs back to the end of the line and spots in her periphery what looks like a gray beanie, she dismisses it as a trick of the eye. After all, Jughead is one of the main things on her mind lately; she can’t help it.

Then, as she reaches the end of the line and turns to face the bleachers, Betty thinks that she _must_ be hallucinating. Because there, with his back to her as he climbs the risers in search of a seat, is none other than Jughead Jones.

She taps Midge, who stands in front of her in line. “Am I hallucinating, or is Jughead somehow _here_ right now?”

“Jughe– holy shit, no, that’s _him_.”

That attracts Toni, standing in the opposite line waiting for the current drill to finish. “Oh _shit_ , he drove all the way out here?” She shoots Betty a mouthed “oh my _God_ ” before it’s her turn to sprint forward toward the goal with Evelyn.

“Betty, that boy is in _love_ with you,” says Melody on the other line, as she moves up to take Toni’s place. 

Betty flushes. _Love?_ That word scares her, even if she knows deep inside that she _is_ in love with Jughead. Still, as she gets over the initial shock of seeing Jug somewhere she truly _never_ thought she’d see him, her body floods with affection and excitement. Barely any parents have ever even bothered to drive to away games for their losing team, let alone friends and significant others.

She moves up in line as if in a daze, watching as Jughead finally picks a seat and takes his time getting settled, looking curiously around him in a way she finds super cute. 

Sabrina finishes her turn and comes in line behind Betty, following her eye line and sighing. “Oh, Betty. You two are like, a _fairytale_ kind of love story.”

That’s when Jughead finally notices half the Riverdale High field hockey team noticing _him_ , his face looking flustered even from a distance as he waves timidly. 

“Hi, Jughead!” Melody yells, waving wildly, and all the girls still standing in line burst out laughing.

Betty waves excitedly, blowing him a kiss before it’s her turn to go. 

She receives the ball from Roz and moves up the field toward where Alexandra and Ethel are waiting to defend Peaches in the goal. Betty manages to skate around Ethel and pass off quickly to Roz, who drives a rapid shot into the goal past Peaches. Betty and Roz slap sticks in victory, Roz picking up the ball as they jog back to the end of the line. 

Betty takes a minute to turn and look in the stands again and there he is, watching her with the little proud smile he gets whenever she thinks of a good newspaper idea or an especially flirtatious quip when they’re making out. She grins wide and sticks her tongue out at him playfully. He smiles widely back, and she knows exactly what he means.

Before Penny can catch her, Betty returns her attention to their warm-ups. And yet Jughead’s presence in the stands keeps Betty in an amazing mood throughout a game that would normally have her grumbling all the way back to the bus. They’re absolutely _clobbered_ by Stonewall as per usual—after all, they remain one of the best teams in the state—but this year’s batch of preppies is far meaner than any they’ve battled before. 

One player who Betty didn’t recognize from years’ past—Donna, based on the call-outs she overheard throughout the game—kept shoving her and hissing barely-veiled insults and threats at Betty under her breath. It’s strange for sure. Usually when one of them gets bullied on the field like that, it’s Toni or Melody or Sabrina, their current star players who tend to bruise more competitive players’ egos from time to time. But Betty? She hovers amongst the best players on their team, but that means little given their relatively low skill level. Usually other teams don’t bother to try to intimidate her. She can only be grateful it happened on a day when Jughead is here, when her good mood couldn’t be shaken if she tried.

By the time the team is headed toward the parking lot, she’s already shoved it off. 

Her friends lovingly cheer and whistle when they reach the parking lot to find Jughead waiting near the gated entrance, hands shoved in his Sherpa jacket pockets as he bounces on the balls of his feet. Jughead blushes even as Betty shakes her head at her friends and runs toward Jughead, sweeping him up in a big kiss before she can even think about it.

“Hi!” she says brightly when they pull back, Jughead releasing her more quickly than he would normally (after all, Penny is watching.) “Thanks for coming. I was...so surprised and excited to see you.”

“Good,” Jughead says, smiling down at her. “That was the point. I wanted you to have a happy surprise for once.”

Betty grins, bopping his nose with her finger. “You’re too good to me.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Cooper!” Penny barks. “You two are definitely the Class Couple of 2012, but we need to get a move on!”

“Meet me back at the school?” Betty asks. “We can get Pop’s?”

Jughead nods enthusiastically, giving Betty a quick peck on the cheek and releasing her. “See you there.” He waves toward Penny. “Good game, Coach!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Penny mutters as Betty catches up to her and the pair fall in step to get on the bus. “Your boyfriend’s smoother than I expected, Betty,” she says bemusedly.

“Surprised me too,” Betty says, giggling with a shrug as the bus door closes behind them.

.

.

.

Jughead’s birthday falls on a Sunday, and when they wake up to rain pelting the windows, Betty has never been more grateful to date a moody homebody. 

Their plans remain unchanged: Jughead picks her up at 10 AM, accepting a giant kiss and whispered promise of “more presents later” from Betty before driving them to Pop’s, where Jughead is greeted by an exuberant Pop Tate who refuses to let them pay for breakfast. They arrive at the Bijou Theater just in time for the afternoon show—a noir double feature Jughead begged Betty to see. Jughead keeps one arm slung around Betty’s shoulders and the other hand alternating between digging into their popcorn bucket and massaging the inside of Betty’s thigh. 

They walk hand in hand through the parking lot, the air and pavement still wet though it’s long stopped raining.

The second they return to the truck Jughead blurts out breathlessly, “FPhasanovernightshift!”

Betty laughs. “I’m sorry, birthday boy, I’m gonna need you to run that one back for me.”

He laughs too, reaching forward and grabbing one of her hands and bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. “FP has an overnight shift tonight,” he repeats, slower this time as he presses kisses along her knuckles. “So, if you wanted to...come back with me. To the trailer. We’d have it to ourselves. We could…”

“Let’s go,” Betty says hastily, and Jughead grins, dropping her hand and putting his key in the ignition. 

Jughead flirtatiously crowds her space as he unlocks the trailer door, and by the time they stumble into the empty trailer, they’ve already given in to the tension brewing between them since Jughead picked her up on Elm Street that morning. 

They kiss their way through the kitchen, and before long Jughead has Betty pressed up against the kitchen counter. She giggles when her thighs hit the cold Formica, lets out a deep and unexpected moan when Jughead’s hands wander up her shirt and, for the first time, he dares to massage her nipple for longer than just a barely-touch. 

Betty tightens her arms around Jughead’s neck, kissing him fervently as she leans into him. Every single touch and brush against her skin sets her a little more on fire.

They only pull apart when a couple minutes later, both their stomachs grumble audibly.

Betty laughs loudly, her forehead pressing against his. “I guess popcorn doesn’t substitute an actual dinner, huh?”

Jughead groans. “Curse my monstrous appetite.”

Betty laughs. “You sit down, I’ll make us some dinner.”

Jughead looks at her incredulously. “In this dump?”

Betty nods, pushing him lightly on the chest. “Don’t underestimate me, Jughead Jones.”

Indeed, the newest iteration of Trying To Be a Dad FP has enough groceries in the fridge and the pantry for Betty to quickly get to work making a salad and putting water on the stove to boil. 

“Pasta?” Jughead guesses from the kitchen table, where he has his nose in his laptop, reading all the headlines they missed while at the movies. Preppie-insult aside, Betty and Jughead have been following the Occupy Wall Street story pretty closely since protesters first started occupying Zuccotti Park last month.

“Pasta with the eggplant your dad has in the fridge, which will definitely go bad if he doesn’t use it soon,” Betty sing-songs, making Jughead look up over his laptop and laugh at her.

“What’s happening in the world, Jug?” Betty says, turning back around and wiping her hands on a tea towel.

“They’re making arrests in New York—the NYPD got hundreds of the Occupy protesters trying to cross the Brooklyn Bridge back to the encampment,” Jughead explains, his eyes scanning an article.

Betty groans. “Do you ever feel guilty, that we’re just here in Riverdale doing nothing while people are out there camping out in protest of exactly the kind of inequality we’ve seen wreck our town?”

Jughead shakes his head, closing his laptop and coming up behind Betty. “We _are_ doing something, Betty. We’re constantly pissing people off with our very-accurate reporting on the ills of this town. And soon we’ll…” Betty giggles as Jughead’s breath hitches, maybe because they haven’t really talked about the future lately. “...soon we’ll be out of here, I know it,” he continues. “And we can protest inequality together whenever you want.”

Betty turns around in his arms. “Promise?”

Jughead offers his pinky. “Promise.”

“Now, let me finish cooking your birthday dinner,” Betty teases, giving him a kiss and then poking him in the chest to return to his perch at the table.

Indeed, they’re eating dinner fifteen minutes later, as Jughead raves that Betty has produced “the most edible home-cooked meal that has ever graced this table.”

They wash the dishes side by side, and as Jughead is drying the pasta pot, Betty disappears into the bathroom with the tote bag she brought. She takes a deep breath, still nervous to give him his gift, before returning to where Jughead is leaning against the kitchen table waiting for her with a cookie tin in her hands.

She hands it to him and says sweetly, “Happy birthday, Juggie.”

Jughead grins, accepting the tin. “Oh my _God_ , Betty, did you make me those chocolate-chip snickerdoodle cookies you know I love?”

Betty giggles, nodding. “Yes,” she says. “But also…” she pauses because Jughead has already found it: the two-page love letter she tucked inside the tin, penned from her window seat on a snowy January day when she was pining for Jughead even more than usual. 

His eyes soften as he unfolds the paper and places the tin of cookies on the table. He begins reading, and Betty shifts from side to side, trying not to watch him too closely as he reads her words. Most of it is stuff she’s told him since they finally got together, but some of the details are new. She runs over lines she remembers in her head as she waits for his reaction.

_I don’t know what I’m feeling but I know I like you as more than friends._

_If you ever come back here, Jug, I won’t ever throw away my chance again. I need to know what it feels like to kiss you._

_Once I started imagining the things I want to do with you, I couldn’t stop. I can’t stop._

Jughead lifts his eyes to meet Betty’s when he finishes reading, his eyes burning.

“Did…” Betty squeaks out nervously. “Did you like it?”

Before she even has an idea of what’s happening, Jughead is dropping the letter on the table and wrapping Betty up in a deep kiss. His arms snake under her shirt and up her back as he hoists her into his arms. 

She shrieks with laughter, pulling back from the kiss for just a moment to shriek, “Jug!” as he carries her the short distance to the couch and drops her down, a little rough but in a way that she really likes.

“I can’t stop imagining things I want to do with you either,” Jughead whispers in her ear, before hitching her skirt up above her thighs. 

* * *

Jughead has probably fantasized about having Betty right here, underneath him on the trailer couch, breathing heavily as she stares up at him, a million times before. And yet, the second he dares to grip her thighs, to consider moving closer to her core, he gets kind of nervous. 

“Don’t overthink it,” Betty whispers, as if she can read his mind, pulling his face down to meet hers. 

He smiles into the kiss, bringing his hand to cup her chin instead, and she immediately tangles her own hands into his hair, his beanie long strewn on the ground. Indeed, over the near-month they’ve now been dating, Betty and Jughead have gotten _good_ at this. Jughead is hard within seconds, Betty groaning at the friction as she thrusts her groin against his. 

Somewhere in the heated jumble of tongues and limbs, Betty climbs into his lap, straddling him as his hands wander toward the bottom hem of her shirt. She moans into his mouth when he reaches her breasts, fondling and ghosting across her nipples in the way he’s done many times before in the back of his truck, or while making out in the _Blue and Gold_ office after-hours. But they’ve never been anywhere before where they were completely alone, where removing clothes could even be an option. He barely thinks of the idea before Betty does it herself, throwing her cardigan and tank top onto the ground in one fell swoop.

Jughead stares greedily at Betty in her pink lace bra, her breasts even fuller than he could have imagined from just touching them under her shirt alone. “Holy shit, Betts,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

Betty flushes, kissing his cheek and grabbing the hem of his shirt too. He lifts his arms above his head, helping her pull the blue S t-shirt off. She rubs her hands along his bare skin, pressing a kiss under his heart as she whispers, “You’re beautiful too, birthday boy.”

Something about the softness in her tone and the desire in Betty’s eyes has him taking control again. He cups her tits in his hands, letting his fingers rub slowly over her nipples as she continues grinding in his lap and making the sexiest sounds he’s ever heard. Her head is thrown back, eyes closed, and so he takes another chance: kissing the top of one breast and then letting his tongue wander, reaching underneath the lacey fabric to wet her nipple. 

“Oh, fuck, Jug,” Betty whispers, her hand coming to tangle in his hair again.

“You like that?” he checks and she nods frantically, continuing to rut in his lap. 

“Touch me,” she moans, and he has to stop to make sure he’s heard her right.

He pauses his ministrations to say, “you’re sure?” even though he’s never wanted anything more. He’s been doing a lot of research since they finally started dating, and he can’t decide which he’s more excited about: the idea of fingering Betty or eating her out.

“Yes, I’m sure. _Please_ , Jug,” Betty whines.

Jughead captures her lips again in a bruising kiss, letting their tongues mingle as his fingers wander up her thighs again, this time tugging at her panties and pulling them gently down. He’s overwhelmed by the smell of Betty as much as how gorgeous she is—seriously, vaginas are so much prettier than penises, it doesn’t even compare—and Betty laughs.

“Jug,” she whines again. “Please.”

He grins a little mischievously, remembering his research as he finds her clit and rubs experimentally. She moans. “Yes, yes, that’s it.”

It takes a little bit of adjusting, a little bit of Betty reaching down to move Jughead’s hands this way or that way, but soon Jughead has one finger pumping in and out of Betty’s pussy while he rubs her clit with his thumb, Betty’s panting breaths and moans of pleasure only accelerating. 

She lets out a little scream when she cums, and he’s mesmerized by the feel of her pussy clenching around his fingers as she rides out her orgasm. He removes his fingers to find them slick and delicious-smelling, though Betty’s cheeks burn as she watches him.

“Do I smell okay?” she asks in a small voice and he nods quickly. 

“Of course, Betty,” he says. He reaches down and kisses her, and she responds eagerly, whispering when they finally pull back, “Holy _shit_. You’re a natural, clearly.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, her cheeks, and then her lips again. 

“I want to return the favor,” Betty whispers against his lips.

When Jughead protests, she counters, “It’s your _birthday_.” 

She palms his incredibly-erect dick over his pants, and he concedes: “Okay, you may have a point.”

Betty grins, wetting her lips as she gently unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down his legs. He watches her, mystified, as she reaches into his boxers and strokes gently.

“Holy shit,” Jughead whispers at the instant sensation of her soft hands where his own would usually be as he daydreamed about Betty. He grabs a couple tissues from the box on the coffee table, readying himself for what will surely be a quick orgasm. 

“This okay?” Betty whispers, stroking him up and down and he nods, moving his hand a little over hers to adjust to how he likes it.

“ _Yeah_ ,” he says, leaning his head back with a groan as she starts to find a rhythm. 

As expected, he cums only a couple minutes later, Betty stroking him through the orgasm as he uses the tissues to keep from staining his dad’s couch. (Seriously, that would _not_ be fun to explain to FP.) 

“That was really good,” Betty coos as she pulls her clothes back on, watching Jughead finish cleaning up himself.

“‘Really good’ is an understatement, Betts,” Jughead promises as she tiptoes to the bathroom.

They collapse back on the couch, Betty instantly nestling into Jughead’s arms. 

“What time do I need to get you home?” Jughead asks with a yawn.

“We’ve got a couple hours,” Betty says. “More than enough time for a nap if we set your alarm.”

“Oh my God, yes,” Jughead says, standing up and pulling her by the hand. 

They run down the hallway giggling to his bedroom, and fall asleep for a good two hours with Betty’s head resting on Jughead’s chest. He has never been angrier at an alarm for going off.

Betty holds his hand across the dashboard the whole way home, and they linger even longer than usual when he reaches Elm Street, kissing in the front seat before she finally gets out of the truck. 

On his drive home, Jughead thinks of nothing but the look of pure pleasure and affection on Betty’s face when she came around his fingers. He stays up late writing about turning eighteen and the feel of Betty’s hands around him and how to know for sure that he’s in love with Betty Cooper and if so, when to tell her.

* * *

On Monday afternoon, Betty waits until after practice to broach the topic, until Betty, Ethel, and Midge have offered to stay behind with Toni to put away the cones and ball bag. 

Betty lets Ethel gush about her date to the Science Museum with Ben, and how much fun she thinks it would be to go back and see the light show while stoned.

“Now you’re talking, Muggs!” Toni says with a laugh and a high-five.

Midge doles out yet another round of TMI about her sex life with Fangs, but for once Betty doesn’t mind. Toni clearly notices the glint in her eye when the conversation turns to sex, and she points to Betty when Midge finishes.

“What are you hiding, Coop?” Toni says suspiciously.

The four of them are crossing the field now, carrying all the gear between them as Toni swings her keys to the field hockey shed. 

Betty giggles. “Yesterday was Jughead’s birthday…”

All the girls shriek with excitement. “I’m guessing you two engaged in some _serious_ necking then?” Toni says as they all laugh.

Betty nods. “You could say that. We...at the risk of sounding lame, we...rounded third base for the first time.”

“Ooooh, Betty, good for you!” Midge says. “Did he make you orgasm? It took Moose like three tries, so don’t feel bad if he didn’t.”

“Oh, no, that’s _not_ a problem,” Betty says. “Believe me, we both came.”

“ _Yes_!” Toni says gleefully as she unlocks the shed. “That’s what you deserve, Betty. That boy is so in love with you.”

“He totally is,” Ethel agrees. 

Betty blushes. “Well...maybe. All I know is, things are going really great.”

As the four of them cross the parking lot and continue chatting, something occurs to Betty: it feels just a tiny bit strange, to be having this conversation with _these_ friends. Thinking back to her days of flipping through American Girl books about “our changing bodies” with Veronica, she feels a little pang of sadness. Betty guesses a small part of her always figured that once she found a guy she was willing to fool around with, she would come to Veronica and Cheryl for advice. But high school isn’t like in the movies. (And Betty’s liking this version better anyway.) 

.

.

.

That Friday night, Toni realizes they only have a little over two weeks left of the season—of field hockey, _ever_ —and asks Ethel, Midge, Betty, Melody, and Valerie to drive out to the quarry.

They spread out blankets along the water’s edge, pass Mike’s Hard Lemonades and a couple joints around as they reminisce about all the best times they’ve had together. Midge tells a story about a ref who infamously hates Penny that has tears running down all their faces in laughter.

They realize, as they shuttle through the four games they have left—the final one being a home-turf rematch against Stonewall Prep—that the seniors may very well have already notched their final field hockey win without even realizing it, at their away game against Milton two days earlier.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you guys,” Melody whines.

“Be an amazing captain,” Toni tries, bumping her friend playfully.

“I’m not technically captain yet,” Melody protests, and they all laugh.

“Good one, Mel,” Betty teases. “But your position as captain has been decided for a long time.”

“Definitely,” Midge agrees. “Pepper always said: you can tell who will be the captain by the end of a freshman class’s first preseason.”

“Stop it! What about you guys?” Melody says. “Where will you all be?”

“Yeah, so we can apply to the same schools and follow you!” Valerie whines, laying her head in Ethel’s lap. 

Betty twirls pieces of grass around her finger as she listens to her friends talk about college aspirations, as they share memories and inside jokes from field hockey games and pasta dinners past. 

They make tentative and silly meal plans for the pasta dinner Betty had finally convinced Alice to let Toni and Betty host, just two weeks away before their final game. 

Suddenly, it’s all happening so fast. _Too_ fast. Betty wipes a tear from her eye and rests her head on Toni’s shoulder.

“I’m really gonna miss this,” she says. 

“Oh, Coop,” Toni says softly. “Me too.”

* * *

Jughead leans against a bookshelf in the corner of the _Blue and Gold_ office and watches Betty address the dozen or so students who now comprise her formidable staff.

“We go to print _this_ Thursday, so all final edits need to be emailed to me by 6 PM this Wednesday. Issues will arrive in Miss Bell’s office next Thursday, October 20,” Betty says, her voice commanding attention. “I expect everyone to come collect their stack for distribution by first bell on Friday the 21st.” She stops to take a breath. “Any questions?”

Jughead grins, trying not to make it too obvious how turned on Betty’s dominant editor-in-chief voice makes him. He waits while Toni talks to Betty for a minute before heading out with Midge and Ethel, and as a couple younger staffers ask Betty follow-up questions before shrugging on their backpacks and leaving too.

“Don’t you have to head to practice with the rest of ‘em?” Jughead asks Betty’s turned back when it’s finally just the two of them left in the newspaper office.

Betty smiles and turns around. “Penny knows I’m gonna be late.” Betty creeps closer to him, swinging her arms around his neck. He grins and grabs hold of her shoulders to keep her steady as she sways on her tip-toes. “I was hoping a certain handsome writer could give me a ride?”

“Of course, Betts,” Jughead says, giving her a kiss before they separate to pack up, circling the room and picking up a couple stray hand-outs and napkins to throw away. 

Jughead glances at their chalkboard, filled with a web of story ideas and photo ops, his gaze lingering on a story Betty wrote about various senior athletes who already committed to playing at colleges next year. 

“You ready, Jug?” Betty asks, her gaze following Jughead’s as she swings her sports bag over her shoulder and picks up her field hockey stick from its perch balanced against the windowsill.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, swallowing. 

She looks again at the Post-It scrawled with the words _college athlete story_ , and a soft expression of understanding seems to cover her face. Betty sighs, dropping her sports bag to the floor again. He watches her, surprised. 

“Do you want to talk about...about college, Jug?” Betty asks cautiously. “I know we’ve both already applied so it’s been easy to...not talk about it, which is kinda weird for us.”

Jughead smiles, grateful as always to be with someone who knows him this well. “It _is_ really weird,” he says. “And I don’t know, I kinda don’t want to talk about it, but I also don’t want to...not talk about it. Does that make sense?”

Betty nods, reaching for his hand and swinging it between them. “It makes complete sense,” she says. “That’s how I feel too. Like...being with you has just been so amazing. Usually I’m spending all my time thinking about my plan to flee this town, but being with you has...I don’t know, made living in the present here actually doable for once.”

Jughead laughs loudly, squeezing her hand. “I feel the same way. You have a way with words, Cooper.”

“So do you, Jug,” Betty insists. “And you deserve to go somewhere great for your creative writing.”

“And you deserve to go to a great school for journalism,” Jughead says, surprised when Betty shrugs. “What?” Jughead says. “I mean, the way you just commanded this room…”

Betty nods. “Yeah. I...I really do like it. I’ll miss this office, and this paper, for sure.” She gestures around them. “But I don’t know if...I’d want to make a career out of it. If anything, while you were gone, it made me realize how much I _don’t_ want my mom’s life.”

“Wow,” Jughead says. “I guess I didn’t realize that. So, no more ‘Yale for journalism?’” he checks incredulously, his stomach swooping with hope. (“Like Rory,” an eleven-year-old Betty once insisted to Jughead as they watched _Gilmore Girls_ reruns after school on ABC Family.)

He hasn’t confirmed for Betty that his first choice hasn’t changed, but she knows what it is: Lesley University, a little private school in Cambridge with a creative writing program that he thinks he could swing with some financial aid and only a couple loans. He’s been working toward that goal since the summer before their junior year.

“Nope,” Betty says. “My first choice is Tufts now.”

Jughead stares up at her, his heart catching in his throat. “Tufts, like...in Massachusetts, Tufts?”

Betty nods, grinning and inching closer to him. “Tufts as in, a school I realized last February had a lot of different topics I might be interested in studying, which would be perfect for me as an undecided freshman. Tufts, a school that, as a bonus, just so happens to be on the same side of the Charles River as…”

“...Lesley,” Jughead finishes.

Betty nods, a nervous look in her eyes. “Is that still your top choice?”

He nods. “I applied early action; plus a few safety schools. You?”

“Same,” Betty says, letting out a breath. “Wow,” she says, her expression making it seem like her mind is racing as much as Jughead’s. 

Jughead was scared that this talk would bring them back to reality, almost prepared to resign himself to a long-distance fate at best and losing Betty at worst. But instead, he’s stunned by the knowledge that an uninterrupted future together is within reach. He’s not sure which is scarier, actually. 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Jughead says, grabbing her hand again. He can see that her fingers are curling into her fists, an obvious tell that her anxiety is ramping up. “Maybe…” he continues. “Maybe we had it right the first time. Now we know about our top choices, but we don’t have to get into each others’ safety schools and everything. We can just...be together and wait to find out. Right?”

Betty nods, her face warming immediately. “Thanks for saying that. Honestly, I was starting to get really anxious, thinking about all the worst-case scenarios where we’re a million miles apart again next year.”

Jughead pulls Betty to him, patting the top of her head lovingly. “None of that,” he says. “Let’s be teenagers for once, and live in the moment. Our futures will be determined soon enough. Let’s worry about it then.”

Betty laughs, leaning into Jughead’s chest and hugging him tight. “Okay,” she agrees. “Let’s live in the moment for a while longer.”

* * *

Veronica asks Betty to grab coffee on Saturday afternoon at the bougie new shop that opened on the border of the Southside over the summer. In her text, she says she wants to talk without half the town hearing them, and Betty can’t disagree with that. Besides, last year Betty was finally able to find a way to be friends with Kevin one-on-one; who says she and Veronica can’t figure out how to do the same?

When Betty arrives, Veronica is already seated, having ordered Betty her favorite cherry danish and a coffee complete with fancy latte art. Betty can’t help but smile; in Veronica’s world, this is quite a show of affection.

Betty thanks Veronica for the coffee too many times, which devolves into small talk about the weather and the drive, and then the inevitable silence falls over the little table. 

Veronica lets out a hitched breath and launches into a clearly-planned speech, but that doesn’t make it any less sincere. Forcefully, Veronica says, “I am so sorry for the way you and I lost what we used to have as best friends. I should’ve tried harder to see you outside of all the jock hang-outs, instead of constantly inviting you to things you clearly didn’t want to come to.” She laughs bitterly and Betty shoots her a sympathetic smile, letting her continue before she responds.

“Anyway, I know I let Cheryl kind of lead the way from the minute we stepped into Riverdale High, and I regret it, I do. I came to this town determined not to be a mean girl and then I just...ended up being one anyway,” Veronica says, sighing as she stirs her coffee. “I guess you can take the girl out of the prep school, but you can’t take the prep school out of the girl.”

Betty smiles sadly at her. “It’s okay, V. I forgive you. And I’m sorry too.”

Veronica looks surprised. “Sorry for what?”

Betty shrugs. “It has occurred to me that Jug and I can be...a little judgemental at times. I’ve been thinking about what you said since the drive-in, and you’re right. In a lot of ways, we didn’t really give you a fair chance either. I could’ve reached out more than I did too.” 

Veronica laughs loudly. “Wow, look at us. What’s the word for this?”

“I think….it’s called maturing? Growing up?” Betty offers and Veronica smiles softly.

“I certainly hope so.” She pauses to take a sip. “Well, speaking of growing up...at the risk of sounding like an adult, how are your college applications going? Are you still hoping for Yale?”

Betty laughs. “I’m actually all done with my applications, have been for a while. And no, I’m actually not even applying to Yale anymore.”

“Wow,” Veronica says, surprised. “I’m shocked! It was your top choice for so long.” 

“Are you still applying to Barnard early decision like you always wanted?” Betty asks. 

Veronica nods. “Yep. I submitted my app last week.”

“Congrats!” Betty says, a smile warming her face as she thinks of a younger Veronica talking passionately about her love for the school. 

“So, what’s your first choice now?” Veronica asks curiously, and Betty blushes, though there’s no way Veronica could know about the conversation she and Jughead had just a few days earlier.

“Tufts, actually,” Betty says.

“Wow,” Veronica says. “Does Alice Cooper know you’re no longer looking to go to an Ivy?”

Betty laughs and nods. “Believe me, we had a whole showdown over the summer about it, but she’s not the same Alice you knew. You know...since my parents split up.”

“Right, right,” Veronica says, another guilty look crossing her face and Betty wonders if she’d momentarily forgotten about her parents’ divorce. To be fair, Betty knows nothing about the current state of the Lodges’ usually-rocky marriage either. 

“She’s made her peace with it by now,” Betty explains with a little giggle. “But um...so, last season as a River Vixen! How’s that going?”

Veronica sighs. “Honestly, I’m kinda ready for it to be over. Cheryl is...just as bad as a captain as you’d expect.”

Betty wrinkles her nose, laughing. “Having lived with a River Vixens captain before...my condolences.”

Veronica laughs too. “How about field hockey? Whenever I see you guys at Pop’s, you always look like you’re having so much fun.”

Betty smiles, looking wistfully out the window. She kinda hates thinking about the end of field hockey. It’s one of the few parts of high school she’ll be sad to leave behind. “We always have fun,” Betty agrees, turning to lock eyes again with her once-best friend. “I’m gonna miss that team so damn much next year.”

Veronica nods, still seeming a little too unsure to ask a follow-up question, and so Betty asks about what she’s been reading lately—they used to bond over literature, once upon a time—and soon Veronica is making Betty laugh at her story about the last time she visited The Strand. 

It might not be what it was before, but it’s a start.

.

.

.

“Okay, _okay_ , I think we lost them.”

“We don’t know that for sure! Put your foot on the _gas_ , Topaz!”

“Ugh, I’m doing my best, Cooper!” Two identical, deep sighs as Betty and Toni both check the rearview mirror, finding it empty. 

“I’m your mechanic and I’m saying, _step on it_!” Betty pauses to adjust her ponytail, which had loosened in their haste.

“Curse Midge’s Speed Racer ways!” Toni grumbles.

“Seems like we bought ourselves a couple minutes’ head start, right?” Betty says, gripping her sports bag and backpack so she’ll be ready to disembark when they reach her house.

Somehow, it’s the eve of their final home game, and that means the time has finally come for Betty and Toni to host their first (and last) pasta dinner. Alice finally agreed to let Betty host the team at the Cooper home _and_ she promised to stay out of their hair all night, after years of Betty attempting to wear her down. Toni’s never been able to invite the team to her house either—there’s simply not enough space in a trailer for twenty girls.

They finally pull up outside Betty’s house; Betty winces when she realizes she’s surely never slammed Toni’s car door harder. 

“Damn, Betty! Leave the old girl alone!” Toni jokes as she jumps out of the car too. 

“I’m your mechanic!” Betty repeats, giggling as they scurry up Betty’s walkway and burst into another fit of laughter when it takes Betty a minute to unlock the front door in their breathless haste.

Once practice ended, they made the other seniors promise to get everything away in the shed and chauffeur the younger girls to Betty’s house while jumping in Toni’s car in a desperate attempt to beat the rest of the team by even a couple minutes. Although Toni had slept over the night before as they prepared as much of the food ahead of time as they could, there’s still a lot of prep work to be done. Unlike the other girls, they don’t have a dutiful mom waiting at home with a large vat of rigatoni ready to go.

Finally inside, Betty and Toni shove off their sneakers and run upstairs to drop their sticks and bags in Betty’s room. 

They stop to catch their breath, catching their reflection in Betty’s full-length mirror. 

Toni swings an arm around Betty’s shoulder. “I can’t believe we’re finally gonna get to do this, Coop.”

“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” Betty replies, watching Toni through the mirror. 

Toni sighs, both of them wiping away the tears that spring to their eyes. “Later, later, later,” Toni says. “You know we’re gonna end up crying when we do our toast.”

“True, true, true,” Betty agrees, giggling and wrapping Toni in a tight hug. “I’m so grateful we met, Toni,” she says and Toni squeezes her back. 

“Me too, Coop. Field hockey might be coming to an end, but friends forever. Right?”

“Absolutely,” Betty says.

They finally pull back from their embrace and Toni quips, “Now let’s see your to-do list and get to work.”

Betty opens her mouth in shock. “To-do...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Toni rolls her eyes, holding her palm out expectantly. Betty sighs, face reddening as she turns around and grabs two sheets of paper off her printer. “Okay, so your tasks are in green and mine are in red.”

Toni laughs. “Let’s get to work, Coop.”

Their little bout of nostalgia bites into their lead, and by the time they’re finally taking ingredients and Tupperwares out of the fridge, the doorbell rings, followed by Midge’s voice cooing, “ _Yoohoo_! You girls ready for us yet?”

“I’m surprised Sheriff Keller didn’t stop you for speeding!” Toni teases back.

“Take off your shoes and hang out in the living room! I’ll bring out chips in a minute!” Betty calls, turning to smile at Toni. “This is gonna be fun.”

Betty and Toni refuse the help of the younger girls, but accept a couple helping hands from Ethel and Midge, and soon enough the collection of laughing, hungry teenagers is settled in the dining room, occupying every single chair the Cooper family owns. 

“Betty, your cooking is amazing,” Valerie says, groaning with delight as she spoons pasta into her mouth.

“Yeah, did you make this vodka sauce?” Roz asks curiously.

“She did!” Toni says, crunching on garlic bread. “I watched her do it last night. Quite a sight to behold. Jughead’s a lucky guy.”

Betty blushes. “Hey, I’m still around for another ten months. I’ll teach y’all to cook before I go if you want,” Betty says, and a lot of the younger girls moan at the reminder.

“ _Ugh_ , don’t remind me that you guys are graduating,” Sabrina says, crossing her arms.

“Yeah! I only just got to meet you, and now you’re already leaving,” Peaches says sadly, leaning on Toni, who pats her head lovingly.

“Y’all really wanna do this now?” Toni jokes. “Before we’ve even had dessert?”

Betty shrugs. “The brownies will be out of the oven in ten minutes, perfect for drowning our sorrows.”

Toni sighs, patting Peaches once more before standing up with her glass of water. “I can’t believe I’m doing this already,” she says. “But...I guess, since Penny will be with us tomorrow at the game and the Senior Day celebration at Midge’s—thanks for stepping up and hosting that, by the way.”

“Any time, girls!” Midge calls, her hands clasped as she watches Toni. 

Toni breathes in and out, shifting on her feet in the way Betty knows she only does when she’s really nervous. “Okay y’all, I’m gonna try not to cry but it’s gonna be hard. What was I saying? Right, Penny. She’ll be at the banquet dinner too. So, it feels like...this is our last chance for just us girls, no adults around, to say...goodbye.”

Betty feels her eyes burn at the word alone, and smiles sadly at her younger friends who dramatically react with loud declarations of sorrow and disbelief.

“I know, I know,” Toni says, a tear rolling freely down her cheek. “I hate it too. But, you know, that’s how growing up works. It fucking sucks. And honestly, high school kinda sucks too.”

Everyone laughs, but a watery kind of laugh. Melody jumps up and grabs a tissue box from Betty’s living room, passing it around as Toni continues.

“The one thing about high school that never sucked was this,” Toni says, using her glass to gesture at all the teary-eyed girls assembled around the table. “No matter how low the score, no matter how bad our record is, for two and a half months of the year, we give it our _all_ out on that field together, and beyond. I mean…” She looks to Betty, who smiles through her own rapidly-tear-filled eyes. “I can remember a time, before Betty was even dating Jughead, when me and Josie stayed behind until he could come pick her up from Svenson because she had a bad panic attack.”

Betty nods. “My _first_ panic attack. You were all there for me when Jug left town too,” she says, wiping her tears. 

“And when Harvey broke up with me!” Sabrina pipes in.

“You were my first friends in Riverdale,” Evelyn says softly. Nancy squeezes Evelyn’s shoulder affectionately.

“You made the beginning of our freshman year fun,” Peaches agrees, looking at Betty, Ethel, Toni, and Midge, and now all four of the seniors are crying, as well as pretty much all the junior and sophomore girls.

“Do you babes have anything to add?” Toni asks, looking to her fellow seniors and dabbing her eyes as she accepts a tissue from Melody.

Betty gulps, nodding and standing up with her own glass raised. “I mean, I guess...just, I don’t know how I would’ve made it through these past four years without this sport and this team. And even though the season is ending, our friendships will last forever. So please keep in touch, and please keep the spirit of this team alive for us,” Betty says. “But I’m already pretty sure it’s in good hands.” She shoots Melody a meaningful look before ceding her time to Midge.

“You all watched my relationship with Moose end, and then my new relationship with Fangs begin!” she says, laughing. “I cannot thank you enough for putting up with my boy-crazy ways.”

Melody and Valerie cheer. “We’re right there with you, girl!” Valerie whoops to everyone’s laughter.

“And to echo what the freshmen said,” Midge says, her voice growing more solemn. “This team really gave me a home, a group of girls to trust while I was finding myself. Because what else is being a teenage girl, right? Anyway, I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.” She turns to Ethel, standing beside her and crying the hardest Betty has ever seen Ethel cry in public. “Eth?”

“Tissue, please!” Betty calls, and everyone laughs as a tissue box is passed down to Ethel and she wipes snot from her nose.

“Wow, I never do this,” Ethel says. “Well, I’m not one for public speaking so I’ll keep it brief.” She takes a deep breath and says, “Before, I never thought I was good at much of anything outside of school. But field hockey and you girls....you made me realize I was strong. So thank you for that.”

Midge wraps Ethel in a hug, and Toni clears her throat. “Okay, so before we all run out of tears...and before Betty’s brownies are ready.”

“ _Yes_ , brownies!” Alexandra whoops to general laughter.

Toni lifts her glass again, and this time everyone follows suit. “To Riverdale High field hockey! May the sisterhood live on forever!”

“Forever!” Everyone calls back before clinking glasses and taking sips of their _very_ virgin drinks.

The timer on the oven goes off right on cue, and Betty accepts help from a teary-eyed Melody to serve the brownies. They stand together reminiscing as they wait for the brownies to cool, and Betty finds tears coming to her eyes once again in that simple moment.

Suffice it to say, Alice Cooper has to pick up a whole new pack of tissues the next time she goes to the grocery store. 

.

.

.

Maybe it helps that everyone let out so many tears the night before, because there’s a hyperfocus in the air as Betty and her teammates stretch in the grassy area beyond the field. (Even despite the initial tears that covered Betty, Toni, Ethel, and Midge’s faces when they spotted the Senior Day posters their teammates made for them, tacked up along the fence.)

“I know Stonewall is really dominant,” Toni says as they all stretch forward toward the center of the circle. “But in the spirit of Senior Day: give it your all today, okay? For us seniors.” 

Betty cheers along with the rest of the team, though she can’t help but think back to her earlier conversation in the _Blue and Gold_ office, where Toni and Sweet Pea joined Betty and Jughead for a rare lunch. Betty complained about how mean and scary that Donna girl had been last month, anticipating another showdown with their aggressive opponent. 

(“I don’t know what weird obsession or rivalry she has with me!” Betty protested. Jughead did a preliminary Google search on his laptop, turning up the last name _Sweett_ and a few bylines in the Stonewall student newspaper. “Interesting,” he murmured, promising to continue researching during his study hall with a peck on Betty’s cheek.)

Still, Betty can’t pretend she isn’t a _little_ nervous to face the aggressive girl again, especially on a day that should be bittersweet for purely nostalgic reasons. 

“You still nervous about that Donna chick, Coop?” Melody asks knowingly as the girls head back toward the benches. Betty smiles at her friend; they’ve always shared a special bond since both starting a game for the first time on the same day.

Betty nods. “I know it’s dumb, but I’ve just never had such personal insults directed at me on the field.”

Melody frowns. “Some girls are just bitches,” she says and Betty laughs. 

“Now _that_ is true. For example, have you met my older sister?” 

Jughead waves to Betty from the stands, sending a thumbs-up that seems to say his research turned something up. She nods, blowing him a kiss back and breathing a little sigh of relief.

By the time the team huddles up, Penny and Toni returning from their pre-game conversation with the refs and other team’s coach and captains, Betty feels marginally better about her—gulp—final game of high school field hockey.

“Alright, ladies,” Toni says, exchanging an encouraging look with first Penny, then Betty, before continuing, “Well, this is it. The last game of the season, and what worthier opponents than some of the best players in the state? Who’s ready?”

The girls all cheer, Betty letting out a loud whoop and feeling her stomach drop with premature sadness. A taunting voice has come to stay in the back of her mind this year: _it’s almost over it’s almost over it’s almost over. Savor every minute because it’s almost over._

Betty catches Toni’s eye, and they exchange a smile that only best friends can understand.

“It doesn’t matter what the score is today,” Toni continues, even louder than before. “We’re gonna play our hearts out, because it’s the last time this team will get to play together out there on our home field. And I, for one, can’t wait to give it my _all_ with you girls one last time!” 

“Well said, Toni!” Penny says, wiping a single tear from her eye. She throws her arms around Betty and Toni. “God, I’m gonna miss you girls.” 

“Aw, Penny,” Midge teases. “Getting emotional?”

“No, no,” Penny says, straightening her back. “Emotions are for the Senior Day celebration. After the game. Now is the time for strategy and gameplay.” Her voice returns to its usual, brisk tone. “Girls, sticks in!” She waits for everyone to comply before adding softly, “Toni, please do the honors.”

Toni swallows her tears too, all the girls rattling their sticks together and cheering as Toni calls, “We are Bulldogs!” to the screaming refrain, “We are sisters!”

There’s a roar of applause and cheering from the stands and Betty doesn’t even have to look to know that Jughead, Fangs, and Sweet Pea are at least partially responsible. 

“Alright, starters, get out there and make me proud!” Penny calls, giving an extra nudge on the shoulder to each of the seniors as they pass.

Betty takes a shaky breath and lowers her eye mask, popping her mouthguard in. She swallows tears as she taps sticks with Toni and they jog out across the field to their starting positions. She can’t imagine life without this, and yet she’s only one 60-minute game from the end.

When the whistle blows, Betty lets her body take over. She runs the hardest she ever has, like she’ll never sprint again. She relishes in every pass and every block, even attempts a slide to save Melody’s shot from going out-of-bounds. Still, the beady eyes of Donna Sweett seem to follow her every move.

* * *

The whistle blows signaling the start of the game, and Jughead sits between Fangs and Sweet Pea in the bleachers, thinking about the research he’d dug up on Donna Sweett, alongside dirt on a couple familiar faces who again grace the stands a little ways up from him—the same Bret-Joan duo he’d bickered with back at Stonewall last month. 

Betty’s shaking hands and passionate anger in the _Blue and Gold_ office earlier had been more than enough to convince Jughead to dedicate the rest of his afternoon to searching for information and now he has it: last spring, Donna Sweett and Bret Weston Wallis of Stonewall Prep placed second in a newspaper-writing contest, beat out only by Betty Cooper of Riverdale High. He read their overwrought piece earlier and agrees wholeheartedly with the contest judges: the pair’s co-written investigative story on an abandoned house near the snobby prep school simply wasn’t competition for Betty’s usual, evocative mix of dry humor and realism discussing the social ills of Riverdale. 

He smiles to himself as he watches Betty run up the field, as elegant and long-legged and sexy as always, and he tries to savor the moment. It’s a scary, sad thought that this is the last time he’ll get to see Betty like this, seventeen and young and free. 

Jughead knows what it’s like when Riverdale plays evenly-matched teams and moderately-better teams. But it’s eerie how predictable the games against these elite, championship-level teams like Stonewall Prep tend to be: within one minute of the clock starting, the whistle is already blowing again to signal the first Stonewall goal. None other than Donna Sweett holds the ball and runs back to the 50-yard line, a triumphant smile on her face. 

Jughead watches with gritted teeth, his eyes darting between Betty and Donna. Sure enough, it only takes fifteen minutes into the first half for Donna to not-so-subtly shove Betty hard enough that she stumbles, dropping her stick and managing to break the fall with her hands. Jughead stands and watches with so much concern that both Fangs and Sweet Pea feel the need to reassure him that Betty is okay.

Jughead hears the unmistakable sneer of Bret Weston Wallis from behind him as Melody helps Betty to her feet. He clenches his fists, watching as Betty sets up for a penalty shot off the sideline. Betty looks up toward the stands once before shooting, and Jughead blows her a kiss, hoping she sees it. He screams with joy when she drives one of the most powerful shots he’s ever seen her make. It goes directly to Toni, who receives it seamlessly before breaking up the field.

It’s the most triumphant moment of the game. (In a game like this, you take what you can get.) For a few stunned seconds, it seems like Toni might actually score on the unstoppable Stonewall Prep defensive line. The top-tier team has literally been shut out all season, a piece of trivia that even Fangs, Jughead, and Sweet Pea know, all of them blurting it out over each other as they jump to their feet. 

“Go Toni!” Sweet Pea screams, his voice nearly hoarse as he jumps up and down.

Toni makes it all the way inside the circle, Betty and Melody and Sabrina and Midge hot on her heels. There’s a miraculous moment when Toni shoots and it looks like maybe, just maybe it’ll go in. The entire Riverdale section of the stands lets out a collective gasp, and then the Stonewall goalie blocks it, shooting it out to one of the Stonewall half-backs so fast that Jughead feels like it happens in a single blink. 

The Riverdale team isn’t quick to catch up, still relishing in Toni’s moment, and Stonewall easily scores again. It doesn’t matter though. Jughead watches Betty carefully. He’d like to think that by now he knows Betty’s gameplay demeanour pretty fucking well, even in her mouthguard and eye mask, and he can see that her morale is high, that she’s walking on air, that she’s savoring these last moments while she still can. 

Betty confessed to Jughead the night before that she was worried about not living in the moment enough, about regretting it later if she doesn’t let herself take it all in. Jughead gets it. Ever since they entered their senior year, it feels like every second of their life is consumed by a decision or merely another day in a now-endless countdown to any number of events and departures and life changes. He, too, has been trying his best to savor these youthful moments with Betty while they still have them, especially since their decision to table premature talk of college and the future.

“Jug,” Fangs says, pulling Jughead out of his thoughts. On the field, the teams are resetting after the most recent Stonewall goal.

“Yes?” he says quickly, prompting a round of raucous laughter from Fangs and Sweet Pea.

“We were just saying that Betty’s playing really well today,” Sweet Pea says, Jughead’s face reddening when he realizes that Sweet Pea is clearly repeating himself.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, she always is, but yes,” Jughead says, and Fangs laughs, clapping him on the back.

“No worries, bud,” Fangs says. “I’m gonna miss these skirts too.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. “Stop.”

“You’re blushing,” Sweet Pea says. 

“I literally hate you guys.”

The three of them keep a running commentary going throughout the rest of the game, which they inevitably lose 9-0, Stonewall already mercying the Riverdale team by five minutes into the second half.

Despite this, Donna still seems to have it out for Betty. Even though Toni and Melody are easily the star players, neither seem to be targets for the raven-haired girl’s wrath. Jughead’s fists clench, especially when he can track a certain brand of snobby laughter each time Betty has to steady herself after one of Donna’s well-timed shoves. 

(“You good, Jug?” Sweet Pea asks with only two minutes left on the clock. 

Jughead remembers some of his dad’s drunken babble about the Serpents and blurts out, “You guys have my back, right? Like, if something were to go down?”

Sweet Pea nods resolutely. “Of course, dude.”

“For life,” Fangs agrees.)

And Jughead truly didn’t think he would actually _need_ said “back-up,” that he was just being paranoid—but hey, this year is really one for the books.

Because the end of the game finds Jughead Jones in the Svenson parking lot, fists clenched tight once again as he trades verbal jabs with Bret Weston Wallis and Donna Sweett, standing opposite Betty and Jughead, members of each respective team looking on.

As promised, Fangs, Sweet Pea, and Toni are all standing behind them, a protective wall that Betty seems a lot less surprised by than he does. Jughead shakes it off, realizing that’s definitely related to some daddy-issues he’ll have to unpack later. (“We’ll unpack that in inevitable future therapy,” he and Betty like to joke to each other.)

“You didn’t answer my question, Donna!” Betty yells for the second time. “Why do you keep shoving me? What did I ever do to you?”

Donna shrugs, an infuriating look on her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please,” Jughead says. “I heard your friends Bret and Joan here,” he points to the same Joan from the last game, cowering behind Donna and Bret. “Cackle every single time Donna shoved my girlfriend.”

“‘Girlfriend?’” Bret sneers. “Aren’t you two just a Sweet Valley High picture of slum love?”

“What the fuck did that convoluted insult even mean?” Betty asks.

“Listen up, bitch--” Bret says, and before Jughead knows it, he’s up in a quickly retreating Bret’s face, fist raised.

“I know Betty beat you guys in that newspaper competition!” Jughead yells as the Stonewall kids back away slightly. “I read both your stories and Betty is _by far_ the better writer! Get over it!” he continues. 

Bret starts to charge back at Jughead—laughable, seeing as Jughead knows he could take this bozo—but when Jughead actually puts up his fists to return a jab, Bret lets out a boyish shriek and backs away. 

“Jesus, Bret, you’re pathetic!” Donna yells. 

Jughead stands there, stunned by the swiftness and absurdity of what just happened, until he suddenly feels the familiar and inviting presence of Betty’s lips on his, her arms looping around his neck. On instinct, Jughead responds enthusiastically, tongues mingling as he lifts her up off the ground and grips her tightly. 

He barely registers the sound of a couple whistles, and Toni and Ethel and Midge cheering on Betty.

“That’s what I call Senior Day!” yells Melody.

Penny finally arrives in the parking lot, and noticing the commotion, screams at the Stonewall coach to control their players and “get the fuck back on your fancy ass bus already!”

When Jughead and Betty finally pull back from that epic kiss, Jughead is in a complete daze and everyone else has moved on, starting to break off into their cars, exchanging directions for Midge’s house. 

“What happened to ‘no PDA?’” Jughead teases, booping Betty on the nose as he stares down at her in adoration.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Betty says, eyes still closed in bliss. “Well, I didn’t realize that you being all protective and defensive would make me disregard that rule. If it’s still a rule.”

Jughead laughs, stroking her chin. “We can discuss later.”

“Yeah, like we can discuss me being the target of some aggressive bullying campaign over a high school newspaper contest that they _still_ placed in!” Betty bemoans, rubbing one of the bruises forming on her legs.

Jughead laughs. “I can see you want to rant about it.” He pauses. “Pop’s?”

Betty frowns. “Rain check. We have Senior Day at Midge’s house, remember?” She bites her lip and says, “You can come though, you know. If you want. Midge’s mom said the more, the merrier. She makes a _lot_ of food, always. And then...you can drive me home.” She grips his hand tightly and shoots him one of her meaningful looks that he’s getting better and better at deciphering. 

Jughead gulps and nods. “Of course. Lead the way, Betts.”

.

.

.

Jughead knows how to recede to the background and let Betty shine; it’s what he’s been doing his whole life. And in this case, as Jughead stands on the edge of the enormous Klump living room with a plastic plate of food in one hand and a cup of sparkling cider in the other, he realizes how proud he actually is of not just Betty, but this entire team. Without intending to, Jughead had watched every one of them grow into even better players over the last four years. 

Shortly after arriving, Betty apologizes to him as she’s pulled away by the younger girls, but he kisses her cheek with a firm, “Don’t be sorry, enjoy it.”

Fangs snags a few brownies from a batch straight out of the oven, and Jughead sticks with Fangs and Sweet Pea in the corner, tearing up a little himself when Penny actually gets choked up giving a heartfelt speech about the graduating seniors. 

“It’s the beginning of the end,” Sweet Pea quips as the three boys awkwardly watch the gaggle of girls embrace and cheer and reminisce. 

It’s a part of Betty’s life that Jughead knows he will never have full access to, and he would never want to. Because watching Betty come alive with her field hockey friends, Jughead knows that much in the same way that Jughead needed Betty’s friendship to survive high school, she needed theirs. What they give her is something that he and Archie never could have, even if they wanted to. He grins a little harder every time he spots it: Valerie spinning Betty around or Sabrina giving her an extra hug; the four seniors cutting their cake and then embracing with tears. Belonging, strength, confidence. Love.

When the celebration finally wraps up, it’s nearly 8 PM. Somehow, the seniors ignore everyone’s pleas and end up helping with far too much cleaning, to the point that Midge’s mom finally finds Jughead and Fangs thumb-wrestling in the corner and pleads with them to take their girlfriends anywhere but her kitchen. The slightly threatening drop to Mrs. Klump’s voice is enough to convince them, and soon Midge and Fangs stand by the door watching Jughead, Toni, Betty, and Ethel gather their things.

“Yeesh,” Toni jokes as she throws her stone-wash denim jacket over her uniform. “You’d think our diligence to cleaning would be a more desirable trait.”

“Not on your Senior Day!” Mrs. Klump calls from the kitchen. “Love you all, come back any time!”

“Love you, Mrs. K!” Betty, Ethel, and Toni all yell at the same time, and Midge covers her face with her hand as she laughs loudly.

“Ugh,” Midge says. “I love you guys. And I can’t believe it. That...this is the end.”

Midge takes a step toward the other girls. Fangs and Jughead exchange a look of understanding as they both step back to give the foursome their space as they melt into one big teary group hug.

“We still have the banquet dinner, you know,” Ethel reasons when the girls pull back.

Betty throws an arm around her. “Thank you for looking on the bright side, Eth.” 

She finally turns to Jughead, and even though it’s truthfully only been a few minutes since she looked his way, he’s missed her focusing on him. “You ready to get out of here, Jug?”

Jughead nods, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “Let’s do it.”

Everyone embraces a million times, as if they won’t see each other the next day in school, and then the tall front door of the Klump home finally closes behind them. With one last teasing comment from Toni toward Betty and Jughead, the group divides into their separate cars.

Jughead fastens his seatbelt and plugs in his iPod before turning to Betty, who’s staring straight ahead. He can’t tell if she’s spacing out or just contemplating the new paint color on the Doiley house two doors down. 

“Ready, Betts?” he tries and she nods, seeming to shake herself out of whatever trance she was in.

Truthfully, Jughead isn’t dying to get home, so he takes a turn that’ll lengthen the journey by at least a few minutes. She grins knowingly. 

“Where are we going, Jug?” she sing-songs. 

“It’s a momentous occasion,” Jughead says, an echo of earlier days. 

Betty seems to consider. “ _Oh_. I know where you’re taking me.”

“Am I really that predictable?” Jughead quips. “Is the magic already gone?”

Betty giggles, mingling perfectly with the soft indie pop playing from his speakers. “I love the wildflower clearing,” she says, taking a moment to relish in Jughead’s immediate “ _Dammit_!” 

“No, no,” she says. “I love it. It’s like...our spot in a really magical way that will never wear off, I promise you.”

He involuntarily smiles at that, taking another weird turn to buy them some time as he replies, “Go on.”

“I just...have another idea of where we could celebrate this particular...occasion,” she explains. 

He stops at an intersection and glances over at Betty, his heart racing when he spots the seductive glint in her eyes.

“And where would that be?” he says, holding his breath for her answer. 

A sharp intake of breath and then, “I want to...fool around with you under the stands at Svenson,” she admits. “It’s been a fantasy of mine for awhile.”

Jughead audibly gulps and Betty hastily starts to say, “If you’re not into it, it’s totally okay, I only want to do what you’re comfortable with…” but Jughead cuts her off.

“Give me a minute to catch up, Betty, Jesus,” he says. She laughs, and he can see she’s flushing a little as they pass under a streetlight. “But _God,_ that sounds hot. I am 100% down.” As if to punctuate his point, he puts on his turn signal, making it clear that he’s about to do a 180 toward the field. 

“As I said,” he says, dropping his voice low and refusing to look at Betty for the rest of the short ride, though she snakes her arms across his thigh in response. “ _Insatiable._ ” 

The field is—presumably—abandoned, not a single car in the parking lot aside from their own as Jughead pulls into a spot. There are only a couple lights that illuminate the underfunded field, giving the place an eerie, almost romantic glow. Before Jughead can even process what’s happening, Betty’s already exiting the vehicle, pulling her hair out of its ponytail as she goes.

Jughead watches her get out of the car, strutting toward the abandoned field in a sultry and exaggerated manner, an absolute vision in her pleated skirt and jersey, tight as always across her breasts. He knows he’d follow her anywhere, and so he grabs the hand she offers him, and they disappear underneath the bleachers where he’d spent so many afternoons watching her, wanting her, and falling more and more in love with her.

* * *

Betty doesn’t know what comes over her, but some intense part of her leaves the Klump home determined to fulfill this fantasy, to break the rules in this one, little, secret way that will belong to just Betty and Jughead forever.

As they were speeding toward the field, Betty had the vague thought that she felt like Cinderella. There’s something so incredibly hot and enticing about the idea of fooling around with Jughead under those stands with the knowledge that fans were sitting above them just hours earlier, watching her play field hockey in the same skirt. But at midnight, she’ll turn back into a proverbial pumpkin, taking off her blue-and-gold pleated skirt for a final time before hanging up her cleats. As a Riverdale High field hockey player, Betty is near retirement, and this particular act of teenage rebellion is her last hurrah. 

(For the record, Betty will never regret this particular act of teenage rebellion.)

Jughead follows her lead, which would normally make her at least a little nervous, but for once she knows _exactly_ what she wants.

Hand in hand, Betty guides him to a spot underneath the metal beams where you can get a wide periphery of the field. She backs up against a pole, testing its resistance. “Steady,” she whispers and Jughead laughs heartily, pressing in closer to her as he rests a finger across her cheek.

“Right here?” he whispers. 

She nods, letting her own hands drift up Jughead’s face and under his beanie. He groans at her little tug on his hair. “Especially after your little...performance earlier,” she says, laughing as he blushes and lets his own hands start to wander toward the hem of her jersey.

“Oh, right. Back to that,” Jughead says, nibbling at her ear, pressing a kiss on the side of her neck.

Unable to take his little teases any longer, Betty captures his lips soon after, her hands tightening once again in his hair as he moans into her mouth, one of his hands coming down to grip her ass and the other holding her steady by the shoulder.

It’s exactly what she wanted: the cold metal against her back as Jughead presses up against her as close as humanly possible while both fully clothed. Their tongues mingle, and Betty pulls her sports bra off with a classic locker-room maneuver to give his wandering hands fuller access to her chest, dropping the bra in his back pocket as he grabs both her breasts.

Betty gasps when they pull back, unsure just how many minutes have passed. She can feel how hard he is as she ruts against him, his hands reaching up to play with her nipple under her shirt. She’s quite sure she’s never been wetter in her life, the very fact that they’re in public making every tease and touch and nip even sexier.

Jughead lavishes kisses down her neck, little murmurs of “ _mmm_ , you like that?” and “you’re so beautiful” and “ _Betty_ ” already bringing Betty closer to the precipice. 

“Touch me,” she groans into Jughead’s ear. 

“Like... _touch you_ , touch you?” he whispers back, not even pausing his kisses even as he tweaks a nipple with his finger again.

Betty gasps at the sensation and nods. “Please,” she says. “I need it. I _need_ you.”

Jughead’s voice turns husky as he replies, “God, this is like a dream come true.”

“You like this skirt?” Betty whispers.

“ _Yes_ ,” he responds, letting his fingers travel down her stomach and below the Spandex she always wears under the pleated skirt. “I _love_ this skirt. It’s always been a dream of mine to reach under this skirt, to explore and touch and taste you.”

Betty shivers at his words, starting to wonder if coming without being touched is a thing, but she doesn’t have to find out. He reaches the hem of her underwear and dives in much less clumsily than the first couple times they did this, and Betty’s breath hitches in anticipation. 

“Jesus, Betty,” Jughead groans. “You have _never_ been so wet. Is this all for me?”

Betty nods, opening her eyes to watch with fascination as he concentrates on pleasing her. He circles her clit with his thumb and she lets out a little screech, clamping a hand over her own mouth when she realizes how loud that was. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispers as he finds his rhythm, alternating between rubbing her clit and fingering her in the way he recently figured out she liked. 

“Yes, Betty,” Jughead whispers into her ear. “So wet and so good for me. You love getting fingered under the stands where you played a game earlier? Where anyone can see you?”

Betty nods frantically, “ _Yes_. Oh my God, I’m so close.” How can he understand her fantasies so quickly and so deeply?

“I love watching you in this skirt because of how hot you look in it,” he whispers into her ear, somehow knowing this is exactly what she needs. “You’re so powerful, running on the field with those long legs of yours, slapping the ball and taking charge. It turns me on. It always has. Always in this skirt.”

Betty comes around his fingers, crying out to the empty field (or at least they truly, truly hope) and she’s never felt more unapologetically herself in her life. Finally free.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, practically crumpling into Jughead’s arms. He quickly removes his fingers, wiping them along his jeans and pulling Betty to him. Her legs feel like absolute jelly, and the one drawback of this fantasy is that it’s not quite as accommodating to the post-orgasm snuggle as the couch in the Jones trailer. 

“Thank you so much,” she whispers, collapsing into his embrace as his arms come around her. 

He laughs, pressing kisses to the top of her head. “What are you thanking me for?”

“Uh…” Betty laughs too. “For the epic orgasm and fulfilling my fantasy, I guess?” 

Under the muted glow of the Svenson safety lights, Betty can tell that Jughead is flushed and smug. He rubs her back soothingly. 

“Do you want me to...return the favor?” Betty asks.

Jughead shakes his head, though he leans down to kiss her ardently. “I’d rather get out of here. You know, don’t dawdle too long around the scene of the crime.”

Betty snorts. “Is this what you learned in Ohio, Jug?” she teases, straightening out her skirt and jersey a little.

Jughead sighs, tangling and untangling their fingers as he looks down at her uniform. “I’m gonna miss this skirt,” he admits in a slight whine.

Betty frowns, taking one last glance out at Svenson Memorial Field. She turns back to Jughead with a smile, pressing a kiss to their entwined hands and leading them back toward the lot. “Maybe I’ll just have to conveniently forget to give it back.”

Jughead grins. “Devious girl,” he says. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Jughead gives her another deep kiss when they reach the truck, pressed against the passenger-side door, and Betty wonders if he’s thinking the same thing she is, the words she’s afraid it’s too soon to say: _I love you, I love you, I love you._

When he pulls back, his eyes are blown out with desire. “Where do you wanna go now, Betts?” he asks lazily.

“Oh, anywhere, Jug, truly. As long as it’s with you.”

* * *

_I'm gonna stay eighteen forever_

_(cut me open)_

_So we can stay like this forever_

_(sun poisoned)_

-brand new (2001)

* * *

  


**_december 15, 2011_**

_It all comes down to this_ , Jughead thinks as he scurries across the Cooper front lawn as covertly as he can. _I can’t let Alice Cooper catch me now._

As he reaches the front door, he can practically hear Betty’s tinkling voice joking that “to be _fair_ , divorced Alice doesn’t care quite as much to have the eagle-eyes she once did.” Nevertheless, Jughead stops to listen for any WASPy exclamations from within before reaching for the knob. 

As Betty had instructed, the door is unlocked, and he hastily locks it behind him once he enters the entryway. He almost toes his shoes off out of habit before realizing he doesn’t want to leave any evidence of his presence. Alice Cooper has made plenty of heavy-handed comments about not allowing boys in Betty’s room recently, despite the fact that she’s rarely home to enforce said “rule.”

Jughead gingerly crosses through the house toward the staircase, careful not to let the old wood floors creak too much under his feet. He pictures Betty—how relaxed she looked when he kissed her good-bye earlier after their last class together for the day—and smiles. 

They just finished up any time-sensitive _Blue and Gold_ duties for the year, having distributed the second issue a few days earlier. They’re both looking forward to a much-needed break, Betty joking that “newspaper stuff is now 2012 Betty and Jughead’s problem.” They’d ended up fooling around at Makeout Point the night before, celebrating the lifted weight of the one big responsibility that consumed them since field hockey season ended. 

November passed so quickly, Betty and Jughead lost in a fresh round of newspaper investigation combined with the continued hazy romance of their new relationship. Besides, Betty always tends to put a little extra _oomp_ h into the second issue of the year, whether or not she realizes it. Jughead always figures it’s her weird little way of making up for the energy that’s always diverted from the first issue during field hockey season. 

Along with their staff, Betty and Jughead put together another formidable issue, hung out on the Southside around bonfires with Betty’s friends on Friday nights. They went on dates to the Bijou and on weekend adventures across the county in Jughead’s truck before the blustery cold set in for the winter.

With one exception on Thanksgiving for obvious parental reasons, Betty and Jughead continued their embargo on college and future talk into the early days of December. Jughead is honestly pretty proud of them for living in the moment and truly immersing themselves in these first couple months of blissful dating. 

Of course, the pact doesn’t completely silence the worries; with the possibility that everything they’ve ever wanted is just in their reach comes the fear of it slipping out of their reach anyway. 

It’s not even like they did this on purpose. Jughead isn’t sure he believes in fate, but this latest development has him much closer to convinced. Without even discussing it, both their early bird selves had submitted their applications before even warming back up to each other enough to ask about college. Somehow, both those chosen paths would bring them to Boston, if all goes according to plan. 

And now, it’s the day when the embargo is finally set to expire. The climax, the turning point, the moment of truth. _Early Decision D-Day,_ as Kevin’s gossip blog dramatically decried. 

Kevin is among the sizable group of seniors awaiting decisions from top choice schools today. Ethel found out during their creative writing class that she got into her top choice to much applause, and Jughead is almost certain Kevin had too, though he admittedly hadn’t checked his blog since the morning. 

On Thanksgiving, Betty and Jughead spent the day with Alice and Charles in the Cooper home, Polly having gone home with some new hippie boyfriend and FP working an overnight shift. That was the single day they broke their usual silence about college; after a round of Cooper family grilling, Betty and Jughead realized they would both be hearing back from their top-choice colleges on the same day. They made a pact, sitting side by side on the couch while Charles helped Alice calm down about something in the kitchen, to open their respective emails together.

“I actually don’t think she’s here!” Betty stage-whispers, and Jughead practically jumps, looking up to find Betty laughing at him from the top of the stairs. She’s already changed into a pair of pink pajamas, light blue socks decorating her feet, and she looks so cute that Jughead almost forgets why he’s here. “Sorry for the false alarm,” she adds with a guilty grin when he doesn’t respond, only watches her.

“So my stealthiness was for nothing?” he finally says, still walking gingerly as he climbs the stairs to meet Betty. _Just in case._

Betty laughs, looping her arms around his neck when he reaches her. She rewards him with a hungry, loving kiss. “I’m sure you could get past Alice Cooper if you wanted to,” she says in the voice she always uses when appeasing him.

He smiles down at her affectionately. “You ready for this?”

Betty nods, letting out a deep breath. “I think so.” 

They instinctively grab hands as they walk together into Betty’s room. 

“Feels weird to not be having that ‘big envelope moment’ like in all the early 2000s movies, huh?” Jughead asks as he sits on the side of Betty’s bed, pulling his laptop out of his backpack.

“Definitely. Raised on a whole culture with technology that moved past by the time we got there! Story of our young millennial lives. I still bemoan that I never got my own home phone line,” Betty quips.

Off her desk Betty grabs the brand-new Mac laptop Hal gave her as some sort of weird divorcee-dad consolation prize earlier that month after she made an off-handed complaint at their latest dinner about the outdated desktop. (The downside of aloof, divorced Alice is that she spends so much time at the office and with her maybe-he-exists-boyfriend that she doesn’t notice such things that Betty needs. Still, Jughead knows that Betty hates when material things enter the forever feud between her parents.) 

Betty and Jughead sit side by side on her bed, each nervously opening their internet browsers and finding emails from their respective colleges. They both have portals to log into, the latest in college admissions technology. 

“Look, Betty, no matter what happens…” Jughead grabs her hand, and she pauses to look at him. “It doesn’t change anything about us. Right?”

“Right,” Betty says quickly, giving him another kiss. “Ready?”

Jughead nods. “Ready.”

There’s an anticlimactic flurry of clicks and typing and waiting as they both log into their portals and follow the instructions. Then, two sharp intakes of breath.

“ _Yes_!” Jughead yells, his heart beating fast, at the same time Betty whispers, “Oh my fucking God.”

“Yes?” Jughead asks, his heart still beating rapidly as they lock eyes.

“Yes!” Betty says, her own eyes questioning. “Yes?”

“Betty, we’re going to Boston?”

Betty screams, immediately enveloping him in a huge hug. “We’re going to Boston!” she repeats into his ear as they hold each other close, tears staining both their cheeks.

* * *

Betty hugs Jughead tightly, breathing in his smell and basking in the certainty that she won’t have to spend months and months apart from him. Ever since the day when Betty and Jughead realized they wanted to be in the same place next year, Betty feels like she’s been holding her breath. _Good things never happen to us_ , she thought, returning to her usual default mode of trying not to get her hopes up as the weather turned colder and colder. 

They pull back from the hug, Jughead gathering her face in his hands as he kisses her, long and slow, and Betty can’t help but smile as she readjusts her body and the kiss deepens. She can feel that frantic urge of desire that makes her want to rip his clothes off, to say the thought that enters her mind nearly every time she spots Jughead grinning goofily her way: _I love you I love you I love you._

As they continue kissing, Jughead pulling at her ponytail in the way that makes her toes curl, it doesn’t escape Betty’s notice that they’re on her _bed_ , their laptops sitting haphazardly beside them. “Wait, wait,” she says, regretting the words a little even as she pushes Jughead gently off her. 

He looks only a little concerned as his eyes float open, still holding hands as they sit side by side on the bed. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. _Yes._ It’s…” She squeezes his hand and tries to figure out how to articulate the dozens of thoughts in her head right now before realizing there’s no other way to sum it up. “I love you, Jug,” she says, her voice wobbling a little. “I’m _in love_ with you, and I don’t know if that’s too soon to say…”

The huge grin splitting across Jughead’s face says otherwise, and he cuts her off by blurting out, “I love you too, Betty.” 

“You do?” Betty asks, rolling her eyes when Jughead laughs in response. He moves closer to her again, cupping her chin in his hands.

“ _Duh_ , Betty,” Jughead says. “I can’t imagine _not_ being in love with you.”

Betty giggles, tears freely falling as she loops her arms around his neck and starts kissing him again, climbing into his lap and groaning when she can feel he’s already hard underneath her. 

“Is the door closed?” Betty whispers, and Jughead looks over at the door for her, seeming to know what she means by the way his body stills and his hands grip her harder. 

“Yeah,” he says, his voice dry and Betty giggles, giving him an insistent kiss.

“This just feels…”

“Perfect?” Jughead supplies.

“We’re in love,” Betty says.

“And we’re going to Boston together next year,” Jughead repeats, unable to keep his face from smiling again at the sentiment, and it’s enough to have them kissing heatedly, this time discarding tops and bras and pants in their haste.

Betty maintains control, writhing in Jughead’s lap even as he plays with her nipples, until she doesn’t. Jughead easily flips them, pulling her underwear down and bringing his fingers experimentally to her slit. 

“ _So_ wet,” he breathes, two little words that will never not sound hot in Jughead’s bedroom voice. 

“I love you,” Betty replies. “Now _please_ touch me.”

Jughead laughs, complying almost immediately, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he makes her come. He works her through her orgasm with his fingers, pressing kisses along the inside of her thigh as she lets out little gasps and silently prays that Alice hasn’t come home.

When her breathing stills, Betty attempts to return the favor, reaching her hand gently down his boxers but Jughead shakes his head. “I won’t last if you do that,” he explains with a chuckle, and Betty’s glad he read her “is the door closed?” comment correctly.

“You’re sure about this?” Betty asks, reaching again for the hem of his boxers, and he nods. 

“Never been surer about anything,” Jughead replies, kissing her sweetly on the cheek. “You?”

Betty nods, giggling. “Deflower me, Jones.”

“Romance isn’t your forte, huh, Cooper?” Jughead jokes, making her giggle as he attacks her with another round of kisses. 

The kisses quickly turn passionate again, Betty moaning when he pulls away at the loss. 

“I’ll get the protection,” he whispers before crouching under the bed for their stash.

They bought condoms a few weeks earlier while running an errand for Alice over Thanksgiving weekend and ending up in the condom aisle. Things had... _escalated_ enough times that it felt stupid not to be prepared, and Betty has never been more grateful to her past self than she is now.

Betty leans up on her elbows, watching him rip open the box and pull a package of sixteen plastic squares from inside. He looks so beautiful, so focused on her, as he pulls his boxers down and rolls the condom on. (Thoughts of tenth-grade sex ed float in and then immediately back out of Betty’s brain.) 

Jughead smiles at her as he returns to the bed, crawling up Betty’s body to meet her again and give her a long kiss. “I love you so much, Betty,” he whispers, letting his fingers wander again down to her pussy and fingering her a little more as she moans. 

“I heard it hurts less the first time if you’re really...ready,” he says, and Betty laughs as he lines himself up at her entrance.

“I love you, Jug,” she says. “I love that you know that. And I promise you, I’m ready.”

Indeed, Jughead’s research pays off. The feel of him entering her is like a strange new sensation, but it doesn’t hurt. She’s used to the weight of Jughead above her when they fool around, and something about this just instantly makes her feel more intimately connected to Jughead. Both of them pause to stare into each other’s eyes as they adjust to the feeling. 

“Does it hurt?” he whispers, and she shakes her head.

“No,” she whispers, and he tries moving, an experimental thrust that feels vaguely good. 

She can tell from Jughead’s own sexy little noises that it’s good for _him_ , and it makes her even more excited. She shuts her eyes, raking her hands through his hair as she attempts to get a little more lost in the moment, when he pauses his thrusts again. 

“Was that good?” he checks again, and she leans up, giving him a little kiss. 

“It’s good, Jug. Keep going,” she says, a little firmer. “I already came, remember? I don’t care how long you last. We have _forever_ to practice. I just want you to feel good now too.”

“Okay.” Jughead sounds relieved, smiling and reaching down to kiss her again before he continues moving, letting out a little “ _fuck_ ” as their bodies slam together.

He cums only a minute or two later, Betty kissing his neck and running her hands through his hair. He leans down and makes out with her once he’s finished, both of them losing themselves in the kiss as they revel in the sensation of being connected in this new way. 

He finally pulls out and Betty leans her head back against her pillows, giggling at the sheer enormity of this day. 

Betty and Jughead just had _sex_ , and it was _good_. (Toni being her best friend had really drilled the mantra of “penetrative sex isn’t everything” into Betty’s brain.) They love each other. And they have an actual future on the horizon, a future that doesn’t force either of them to compromise on their dreams, that will allow them to build a life together far away from Riverdale.

Betty jumps up to go to the bathroom, also remembering Toni’s consistent advice about “peeing after sex,” and when she returns Jughead has disposed of the condom and is laying on the bed waiting for her, wearing only his boxers and the same glazed look of contentment she feels. 

She collapses beside him, smiling when he immediately wraps her in his arms and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I love you,” he says. “That was _so_ good. And I promise you it will only get better.”

“Oh, I know it will. Everything we’ve done so far has been good,” Betty says, and he smiles at her in adoration. 

“So,” Jughead says, leaning up a little on his elbow. “How soon until we start making lists of things to do in Boston?” His teasing tone makes Betty’s heart melt. _He knows me so well._

Betty laughs heartily, tapping her finger against her chin as she considers. “ _Hmm_. Ten more minutes of cuddling, and _then_ we get started on those lists.”

Jughead laughs, holding her tight and kissing her once more. “Deal.”

* * *

_Face it_

_You turn to me and you can face it_

_Us as one head into the darkness now_

_Lets me know that I'm fine_

(beach fossils, 2011)

* * *

  


**_late summer 2012_**

Betty stands in her kitchen pouring chips into an aluminum bowl and humming along to the song playing from her backyard—it’s that song that’s been playing all spring and summer, perfectly timed to become an anthem for senior graduation celebrations, despite Jughead’s protests—We Are Young by Fun. 

Betty giggles at the thought, washing her hands in the sink and relishing in how cute and confident she feels in the outfit she chose for this occasion: a vintage white, sleeveless, button-up top, tied at the bottom so it rests just at the top of her high-waisted light-wash jean shorts. Paired with the black strappy sandals she found on the clearance rack at Target, and it has “New Betty” written all over it, the new moniker Jughead started teasing her with as they envisioned their new life in Boston.

As part of that project, Betty and Jughead took a bunch of drives all summer, becoming frequent visitors of every thrift store in the county in their attempts to buy new college wardrobes on a budget. They found gorgeous (and warm) winter coats at a steep bargain, new jeans for Jug, cute new tops and skirts and dresses that made Betty feel like maybe she could reinvent herself a little bit in Boston. (In that same spirit, she swiped some red lipstick on today, unusual for her, despite Jughead’s protests that it would hinder his ability to kiss her whenever he wanted.)

As if on cue, Betty feels the not-unpleasant warmth of Jughead’s arms snaking around her waist. “Hey, hottie,” he murmurs in her ear, and Betty giggles, turning around in his arms. 

“Hi,” she says. “Everything okay out there?”

Jughead nods. “Yep. Just wanted to see if you needed help bringing anything out.”

“Hmm,” Betty says. “Are you _sure_ that’s why you’re in here?” She surveys his own get-up—dark-wash jeans he’d cut into shorts paired with his short-sleeve blue shirt, unbuttoned way too low for Betty to resist. 

He laughs, immediately complying when Betty backs him up against the counter, devouring him with her lips as he surrenders to her scarlet-colored kisses. The way they’ve been kissing lately is with an excited fervor, the freedom of their last summer in Riverdale paired with the hope of a new beginning together elsewhere.

Alice is away for the weekend with her new boyfriend, who she _finally_ admitted existed to Betty around Valentine’s Day. Betty had taken it upon herself to host a good-bye party for all her friends, seeing as the weekend also happens to be the last weekend everyone seemed to be home. Many of their friends start leaving throughout this upcoming week—Betty already said goodbye to Kevin, who left the week before—and this is their last shot to all be together before everyone peels off to opposite ends of the country.

Even though Betty and Jughead will at least have each other in Boston, it hasn’t stopped them from holding each other close all summer too. After all, they’ll be in different schools, making new friends separate from each other and going to different parties sometimes. They talked about it, how they want to strike a balance between being each other’s supportive partners and having their own college experiences, and so they’re treating this summer like the last time for a few years when they’ll have each other all to themselves. 

“Hey, Bett—whoa!” 

Betty sighs, pulling back from their heated kisses and giggling at the red lipstick coating Jughead’s lips as they both open their eyes at the intrusion.

Toni stands in the kitchen laughing. “Never change, you two. Wanted to see if you need an extra pair of hands?” 

Betty sighs. “Great minds,” she quips, handing Toni the bowl of chips she prepped when Jughead walked in. “We’ll be out in a minute, let me just...clean Jug up and we’ll grab some more Hard Lemonades from the fridge.”

Toni laughs. “Sounds good, Coop.”

As promised, Betty dabs at Jughead’s lips and chin before they gather more alcohol from the fridge and head back outside. Sweet Pea and Toni both cheer when they see the six-packs in Betty and Jughead’s arms, running over to help them. Around the picnic table, Midge and Ethel pose for a photo that Fangs is taking on Midge’s iPhone.

(Midge was the first person they knew to get an iPhone for Christmas, and the iPhoneification had only escalated from there. Now, about half their friends have them and the other half want them.)

“Lemme see?” Midge asks, grabbing her phone back and scrolling through. “This is the _one_ ,” she says to Ethel, showing her to a nod of approval. “I’m totally posting this to Instagram.”

Jughead rolls his eyes and Betty gives him a little shove in the side. “Behave,” she hisses, handing him a drink. “It’s a day of celebration.”

Indeed, as Instagram began to take off, Jughead started making his opinions on the slow takeover of iPhones (which only enhanced his long-standing views on “the scourge of social media”) very plainly known, pissing off their younger friends. Betty knows that Melody is on her way over with a car full of the younger field hockey girls, and is hoping to keep a philosophical debate on narcissistic teenage social media users to a minimum if possible. (“Save it for college, Jug. Only a week or so left to wait now,” she quipped the night before.)

Betty grabs a couple chips and a drink off the table and sits in the lawn chair Jughead saved right next to him. He grins flirtatiously at her and pushes her chair closer to his before they both return attention to the conversation.

“It’s gonna be so amazing, guys,” Fangs is saying as he crushes a beer can with his fist and successfully tosses it into the recycling bin.

“Seriously, you guys can come visit _any_ time,” Sweet Pea says, leaning back in his chair and looking over toward Betty’s backyard gate for the sixteenth time since Melody told everyone she was on the way.

“Are you and Melody gonna keep seeing each other when you go away, Sweets?” Betty asks, and he sighs, shrugging.

Sweet Pea and Fangs are headed only an hour north to one of the SUNYs, and will be sharing an apartment. “We haven’t made any final decisions yet since I’m gonna be so close,” Sweet Pea says. “But I want her to enjoy her senior year, so if long distance is too hard, I’ll understand.”

Everyone nods and mutters words of approval, Toni resting a friendly hand on his shoulder. Betty notices that Fangs and Midge are pointedly looking away from each other; Midge got into her longtime dream school, which means that when she leaves in two days, it’ll be on a plane headed for UCLA. As far as Betty knows, Fangs and Midge _are_ planning to stay together long distance, but Betty already privately wonders how long that’ll last. 

“Well I, for one, am excited to meet some new prospects at Smith,” Toni says, taking a swig of her beer as everyone else laughs nervously. Toni looks around her. “Damn, I’m friends with too many couples. Melody, get here already!”

Betty laughs. “So are you gonna play the field or are you looking for a boo?”

Toni shrugs. “I don’t know, I’ll have to get a lay of the land first.”

Midge snort-laughs. “Please, Toni. You’re gonna be boo’d up in no time. Either that, or you’ll be pining after some new mean girl.”

“You know _what_ , Midge!” Toni says. “There’s about a 50% chance you’re right.” Everyone bursts into laughter. “But I’m going to bet against that negativity and bet on _love_. In fact, I bet you five whole dollars that I’ll be bringing a girl to meet Betty and Jughead in Boston by the end of freshman year.”

“Wow,” Jughead says with mock disbelief. “A _five-dollar_ bet, to be cashed in when we’re all back here in May of 2013?”

“Looks like it!” Sweet Pea says, slamming a $5 bill of his own down on the picnic table. “I’m getting in on it too.”

Betty bursts out laughing, turning toward Jughead to see him shaking his head as Midge and Fangs contribute to the growing pile of bills.

“May the best pussy win!” Toni yells.

“Boooooo, go home, you’re drunk!” Midge teases.

When the laughter dies down, Ethel says, “I’m honestly kind of glad I won’t be dealing with dating much.”

“Can’t argue with you there, Ethel,” Jughead agrees. 

Indeed, similarly to Betty and Jughead, Ethel and Ben were accepted to the University of Pittsburgh and Carnegie Mellon respectively. However, since Ben’s orientation started last week, he’s already in Pittsburgh and Ethel will be following him later this week. Not that it mattered; throughout senior year, Ben consistently turned down their hang-out invites, even when Jughead and Fangs made an obsession out of trying to get to know the kid. The one time they’d spent a substantial amount of time with Ben was at the small get-together the Muggs family had in June for her graduation. At this rate, the next time they see him will be at Ethel and Ben’s wedding. Shrug.

Betty’s phone vibrates in her lap and she picks it up excitedly, Melody’s face staring back at her. “Are you here?”

“Yes girl!” Melody yells. “I have Valerie, Roz, Sabrina, and Peaches with me, too!”

“Awesome!” Betty stands up and runs toward the gate. “Come around the left side, there’s a little gate you can unlatch.”

Once the girls have been properly greeted and showered in hugs and everyone’s settled down in chairs, Toni and Midge immediately start grilling the younger girls for field hockey dirt.

“Do you think Penny is still with that Travis guy we found on Facebook in November?” Midge asks.

Toni shakes her head at her friend. “Forget that nonsense. Melody, do you feel ready to be a captain? Because you’re born for this role, sister.”

“Damn, girl, let me have a drink first!” Melody jokes, burying her head in Sweet Pea’s shoulder.

“Don’t be modest, Most Valuable Offensive Player,” Sweet Pea teases.

Betty exchanges a smile with Jughead, who immediately looks proudly her way at the mention of last year’s field hockey awards. At the final banquet, Betty ended up bringing Jughead as her date, deciding not to even bother asking Alice. It was worth it, since Betty won the Heart & Hustle Award, delivered to her by Melody through tears. Ethel won the much-deserved Most Valuable Defensive Player, and, of course, Toni took home Most Valuable Player. It was a night with a lot of tears, culminating in the announcement that Melody would be captain the next year. As they’d said at the last pasta dinner, Betty felt confident that the Riverdale High field hockey legacy was in good hands, and what else could you ask for?

Betty doesn’t think much of it when the doorbell rings a couple times; there’s a primary coming up, so they figure it’s just canvassers. After all, everyone they invited to the party is already here. 

Jughead is smearing frosting on her nose and threatening to lick it off, making her laugh in that embarrassing way she does only with him, when they all look up at the sound of the gate unlatching. For a single second, Betty goes into full-on-attack mode, assuming the worst—an intruder, someone here to rob them, or an angry neighbor calling the cops on them for underage drinking. 

When all their other friends turn to look at Betty and Jughead for their reactions, they know who it must be, and sure enough: Archie Andrews stands on the other side of gate they used to run through every summer as kids, hands in his jean pockets as he stares guiltily across the yard at his two oldest friends. He looks taken aback to see so many people in the yard, and Betty can’t believe how small Archie looks as he says, “Hey, sorry to uh, disturb you guys...I didn’t realize.” He clears his throat. “Betty, Jughead. I was wondering if you had a couple minutes to...talk?”

Betty nods, standing up quickly. “Yeah, Jug, let’s go...talk to Archie out front.”

Jughead nods, though he says, “Wait.”

She turns around, confused, her heart beating fast. “Yeah?” 

He wipes the frosting off her nose quickly with a napkin. “You had something,” he says teasingly before grabbing her hand and leading them toward Archie.

“We’ll be right back,” Betty promises, making eye contact with Toni, and she nods with understanding as they follow Archie through the gate and into the front yard.

The silence is odd, the tension palpable. They never really talked out what happened in the drive-in last fall, treating Betty’s individual mended friendships with Kevin and Veronica as a Band-Aid that allowed them to pose for a few pictures with their old friends at prom and graduation for old times’ sake, to occasionally exchange some small talk about college acceptances and summer plans. But real talk, or attempts to hang out? Betty, Archie, and Jughead hadn’t attempted that since before Jughead left the first time. This fact seems to hang above them in the air as Archie turns to face them, all of them stopping on the front lawn. 

Betty realizes that Fred’s truck is parked out front, the puzzle pieces coming together just as Archie offers, “I’m leaving in a few minutes for college. I...I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Oh, wow, Arch,” Betty says. “So, headed to…”

“Rutgers,” Archie says. “Decent music program.”

“Right, right,” Jughead says. “Seems like a good fit for you.”

Archie nods, rocking back and forth on his heels. He swallows and says, “I...I’m sorry that I’m so bad at this, guys. I didn’t realize it could happen to us, you know?”

“What?” Jughead asks. 

“Growing apart,” Archie explains with a shrug. “I guess I just thought we had one of those friendships that would always stand the test of time and then...high school happened, I guess.”

“And none of us did enough to keep it going,” Betty supplies. “I’m sorry too, Arch. But we’re always friends. No matter what. Just because it’s not the same as it was...right, Jug?”

Jughead looks sad, his eyes downcast, but Betty can tell he’s thinking, and thinking hard. Archie watches Jughead too, looking nervous. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry too. I could’ve done a lot better.” He lets out a shaky laugh. “Damn, that was hard to admit.”

Archie laughs too, and then Betty joins them, her eyes tearing up a little when she catches Jughead and Archie exchanging a smile, and she swears she can see them at seven years old, tossing a Frisbee on her front lawn. Fred must see this too, because the sound of the Andrews front door closing is immediately followed by his booming voice saying, “Now there’s a picture I need. Don’t move, any of you!”

Archie blushes. “Sorry, guys.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Betty says. “We love Fred.”

“Betty, Jughead!” Fred embraces them immediately as he crosses over to the Cooper lawn. “I told Arch to make sure to say good-bye before we go. I mean, you guys are the Three Musketeers forever, right?” The hopeful tone in his voice practically makes Betty melt into tears on the spot.

“That’s right, Mr. Andrews,” Jughead says resolutely so Betty doesn’t have to, throwing an arm around Betty and Archie’s shoulders. “Let’s take that picture.”

(Later, Betty will bring the photo with her, a last minute decision. She throws it on top of the photo Jughead took of Betty and all her field hockey friends at their final banquet dinner, arms thrown around each other as they all laughed and smiled at each other.)

They give Archie and Fred genuine hugs as they pack the last couple bags into the truck bed.

“I’ll see you rascals at Thanksgiving!” Fred calls. 

It’s the strangest thing in the world, to stand there with Jughead, waving at the back of the Andrews truck as Archie drives away from them and toward his own, separate future. 

“Hey, Betty?”

She turns to Jughead, finding him watching her with the kind of intensity that makes her know they’re in this for the long haul. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” he says, pulling her to him with his hands looped around her waist. “Now, shall we get back to the party?”

Betty laughs, hearing “Sleepyhead” by Passion Pit emitting from the backyard, along with the telltale cheers and laughter that mean a full-on dance party has broken out. “Toni totally put this on,” she says, giggling. “Let’s dance the night away, Jug.”

.

.

.

On the night before Betty and Jughead are set to leave for Boston, they order pancakes. Because, even though they’ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like their entire lives, a small part of them is still sad.

“I’m gonna miss this,” Betty says, staring out the window from the corner booth where she’s eaten so many meals with Jug.

“Me too, Betts,” Jughead says. “But it’ll always be here for us. And we’ll find new spots in Boston to spend way too much money at.”

“Anywhere that will tolerate our flirtatious banter and laptops I’m okay with,” Betty says, laughing. 

“So,” Jughead says, taking a sip of coffee. “Anything else left on the to-do list for today?”

Betty sighs, pulling it out from her bag and scanning. “Not...not really. We really got it all done. We’re...ready to go.” She looks up at him nervously. “I’m kind of scared, Jug.”

Jughead laughs, reaching across the table and clasping her hand. As always, just his warmth alone soothes some of the anxiety. Alice never granted her requests for therapy, and she can’t wait to sign up to see a mental health counselor on campus when she gets there. It’s that thought, which she had meticulously researched over the summer, that keeps her going. You know, along with the thought that she’ll be able to see Jughead every week as their schedules allow. 

“You sure you’ll be okay with me driving tomorrow?” Jughead asks, the eyes fixed on her so full of concern. 

They spent all summer fixing up a car of their own, which they plan on sharing to get around Boston (and to see each other) easier. “You’re the driver, I’m the mechanic,” Betty jokes. “No, I mean, I love to drive. But driving to Boston for our impending life change? Doesn’t sound as fun as a drive out to Sweetwater River.”

Jughead laughs. “Fair. So, what you’re saying is, me doing the whole drive will be helpful?”

Betty giggles. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, Jug.” She takes another bite of her pancakes. “Besides, I’m a better navigator anyway.” 

Indeed, Betty meticulously planned their drive, including rush hour traffic patterns, and apparently they _must_ leave at 7 am to maximize their time. Despite some obligatory sarcastic grumbling, Jughead agreed immediately. After all, Jughead will follow Betty anywhere, something he’s told Betty so frequently that she keeps joking he should get it crocheted on a decorative pillow.

They dilly-dally a little in the diner, finally shuffling to the front to pay their bill when it’s half past 8 PM. “We should get home so we can rest,” Jughead murmurs in Betty’s ear, and she nods. This is the part she’s been dreading—the farewells. They said most of their friend goodbyes earlier in the week, and she’s feeling pretty “good riddance” about Alice Cooper lately. It’s just Pop Tate left to bid adieu to.

“Pop,” Betty says, tears already swimming in her eyes as they reach the front and hand their receipt over. “We leave tomorrow, you know.”

Pop sighs. “ _Wow_. You two were just eight years old, I swear! Time flies.” He wipes his forehead with a handkerchief and sighs. “Well, as two of my very favorite customers, your last meal is on the house.”

“Pop, you don’t have to-” Jughead starts to protest but Pop shakes his head.

“Give me two big hugs, and I’ll make you pay when you come back to see me at Thanksgiving,” Pop says. “I’ll need you to tell me about all the fabulous things I know you’ll be doing in Boston.”

Betty laughs. “Fair enough. Thanks, Pop.”

Pop Tate is truly the warmest hugger she’s ever met.

“You two drive safe, okay?”

Those are the words that ring through Betty’s head less than twelve hours later, as she sits in the passenger seat of their new car, her eyes glassy. On a morning when she would've been getting ready for another day of field hockey preseason just a year earlier, she finds herself headed toward her future.

“We really did it, Jug,” Betty whispers, wiping a tear from her eye. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Just like we pinky-promised,” Jughead agrees, saluting the neon Pop’s sign as it recedes from their view. “Hey, turn this song up. I want it to be blasting when we pass the Riverdale sign.”

Betty adjusts the dial and reaches for Jughead’s hand. He takes it easily, squeezing once and letting Betty stroke his palm for comfort. 

They fly by it so fast Betty might’ve missed it if she hadn’t been looking.

_Leaving Riverdale. Come back again soon!_

(Betty and Jughead’s apologies to anyone who heard their screeches of “we did it!!!!” over the dulcet tones of “My Girls” by Animal Collective early on that late August morning.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this all started because i used to yearn for my crush to watch me play field hockey in high school, even tho i really wasn’t even that good??? Idk man, im just glad i got to fulfill some fantasies for our gurl Betty. <3
> 
> Occupy Wall Street factoring into newspaper editions entirely inspired by the OWS feature I wrote that same fall for our newspaper LOL
> 
> Btw i decided that FP and Gladys are basically Chris and Lorelai in Gilmore Girls if they *had* run away together and *tried* to raise their kid together but then ultimately failed. The genuine love and the coming back to each other again and again but ultimately not being right for each other fit for me for those two relationships. Anyone else? Did it work for you? I know we have very little in canon to really go off of with these two.
> 
> Epilogue coming soon; hope this was worth the wait. I thrive on your comments at this shitty time! sending y’all love, Maria


	5. epilogue: september 1, 2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this epilogue has been in the outline since the beginning and I needed to include it to have this narrative version of their love story feel complete. 
> 
> However, i wasn’t expecting so many people to fall in love with this universe as much as i did, so i can say this: though i am moving to other projects for the moment, there’s no way i’m done with this version of bughead. (i already have at least one idea i will definitely be writing, and knowing me, more will come as i do it.) subscribe to the series if you wanna get an email when i do drop the next installment!
> 
> Thanks again for reading, you lovely humans! You have made a shitty time really fucking bright with your comments and reblogs and general love for this fic!!!!
> 
> All the love,
> 
> Maria

_for your optional listening pleasure:_ [epilogue: the spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4cWDpE2JsD9GxKMqpR2MO1?si=GkHQ5ZKeTLOW-tsJnIGIVg)  
  
  


* * *

_I just want_

_Four walls and adobe slats_

_For my girls_

-animal collective (2009)

* * *

  


**_september 1, 2015_**

Betty still insists on playing “Boston” by Augustana every time they approach the city limits—even though they’ve both technically been living on the _outskirts_ of Boston for the past three years, a point that Betty’s insufferable freshman roommate made an annoying number of times. That first semester, Jughead mastered the art of calming Betty down with gentle pats on the small of her back, just out of view.

He smiles fondly at the memory, though that version of them suddenly appears _young_ in his mind. It’s a little alarming, but also not altogether surprising. Over the summer, Betty and Jughead frequently discussed that between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one it felt like they aged six years instead of three. 

Jughead turns at the feel of Betty dropping her hand into the cupholder, a silent signal that she wants to hold hands. He grins, immediately surrendering his right hand to the cause of stroking Betty’s knuckles to soothe the same jitters that have accompanied every life change they’ve ever faced together.

“Thanks, baby,” Betty whispers, leaning her head back against the seat. “I’m just…”

 _Honk. Honk, honk. Honkkkk._ And then a thick, Southie accent: “ _Fuck_ you!”

“Oh yeah, _that’s_ gonna do it, guys,” Betty grumbles sarcastically at the Massachusetts drivers surrounding them, moving her hand from Jughead’s to adjust her ponytail. This is the third time he’s seen her adjust it in the last hour alone. Which is just about the amount of time they’ve been sitting in this dense thicket of traffic, creeping ever closer to their new home. 

Jughead shoots Betty a smile, biting his lip as he notices the way her tank top had been jostled during the drive, giving him an extra peek at her soft skin before he turns back to the road. 

Betty and Jughead took turns driving the U-Haul from Riverdale, but once they got close to the city, Jughead agreed to take over for the duration. Navigating a large box truck with all your worldly possessions through a city whose streets were built before automobiles is a _lot_ easier said than done. 

“Did you know an estimated two-thirds of Boston’s leases begin on September 1st?” Betty says in a sarcastic tone as they jerk to another stop.

Jughead gestures out the window toward the giant side-view mirror. “Behold!” he declares dramatically. From where they’re sitting, he can count six different moving trucks. 

“At least we’re not moving to Allston,” Betty muses, and Jughead immediately knows that she’s thinking of the dilapidated apartment they helped Melody move into last spring, in the neighborhood infamous for crustpunks, basement shows, and raucous college parties.

(One of the best calls Betty ever received on a very depressed day in the spring semester of 2013 was from Melody, screeching about her acceptance to Boston University. Betty immediately called Jughead afterwards to, in turn, yell incoherently about their friend joining them next year. Betty’s excitement was only enhanced when, a few days later, Valerie committed to Berklee College of Music.)

Jughead beams, thinking of the apartment they toured months earlier, before leaving for a final extended visit to Riverdale. “We lucked out, Betts,” he says, inching forward along with the traffic as the light turns. 

Betty reaches for Jughead’s hand and kisses his knuckles in the same way he’s done to her since they first became _them_ four years earlier. 

“I can’t wait to live with you,” Betty murmurs, keeping a hold on Jughead’s hand as they continue to sit in traffic, sweating on the cheap seats and reading funny bumper stickers out loud.

Originally Betty and Jughead planned to wait until they graduated from college to move in together, but after so many nights during their junior year trying to justify staying over one place or the other, they finally gave in to the reality that they sleep better together. Finding an apartment together a year early felt like a better solution than torturing themselves for another year. (Especially when they both have senior theses to tackle this year.) Besides, after just one year of off-campus living with three other college-age dudes, Jughead is happy to never, _ever_ do that again.

Thanks to Betty’s sharp research skills, they found the perfect spot in Somerville, a fairly spacious one-bedroom apartment a decent commute from both their colleges. It’s situated on a residential deadend, with a spot in back for their trusty car (now emblazoned with a Bernie 2016 bumper sticker they picked up at a Boston for Bernie benefit show.) They have access to a little garden plot, where Betty has dreams of cultivating tomatoes and eating meals on warm evenings. 

They were careful to pick a place where they would be happy to stay after they graduate. Future after graduation feels like too overwhelming a concept for either of them to fully imagine, but they’ve talked about it enough to decide that at least another year in Boston will likely be just what they need to figure out their next life move together. 

It’s that hopeful, tentative image of their shared future that motivates Jughead through the sweaty moving day traffic. Besides, this is only one phase in what will be a long fucking day. 

Above all else, after a lifetime of friendship and nearly four years of dating, Jughead simply can’t wait to finally cohabitate with Betty. 

* * *

Betty tries not to visibly cringe as Jughead maneuvers the truck down their new street, which feels tighter and more constricting than she remembers from the one time they checked the place out. 

“Take your time,” she reminds Jughead in a soft voice. He nods through gritted teeth, his concentration wholly devoted to not becoming another item on a listicle about September 1st U-Haul disasters.

They both lurch forward for half a second as Jughead finally navigates the truck into an open spot—though what constitutes “open” on a day when there are two other moving trucks on this block alone is debatable. 

Betty jumps out and helps Jughead adjust a little, before he finally gives up, throwing his hands in the air in that cute way he does when frustrated by a minor problem. She watches him with a goofy grin on her face as he dramatically throws the truck into park before finally climbing out to join her in front of their new home.

Our _new home,_ Betty thinks, turning the phrase around in her head. She decidedly likes it; it fits. After all, there were only so many days she could try to push a change of clothes meant for two nights that turned into four; only so many times she could attempt to rebel against her body and sleep alone, only to sit staring at her ceiling before inevitably giving in and driving across town to fold herself into Jughead’s arms. _No_ , she thinks as Jughead rests one of said strong arms around her shoulder. _We_ definitely _made the right choice._

She stares at the pale yellow exterior of the building in front of them, the second floor of which they will momentarily call home. They’ll share a laundry room with just one other tenant on the first floor. (Grad students, according to the realtor who showed them the place.) Betty insisted on avoiding ground floor apartments, having heard way too many horror stories about break-ins that kept waking her up every night with stress dreams while they were apartment hunting in the spring. Even in this place, she’s not sure she’ll be able to handle going down to the basement alone to throw a load of laundry in. 

“Home sweet home,” Jughead says, snapping her out of her thoughts at just the right time to stop her from ruminating, as he tends to do. She’s marveled at this ability of Jughead’s with her therapist before, who got a good chuckle out of it.

Jughead wrinkles his nose in confusion. “Where did...what’s-his-name say he’d meet us?”

“Marco,” Betty supplies, in reference to the building manager she’s been emailing back and forth with all summer. “And he’s supposed to meet us out here, actually,” she says, both of them coming to a stop in the apparently-empty driveway they share with the other tenants. 

Before Betty can even pull her phone out of her pocket to check her email, a pick-up truck makes its way down the block, a dark-haired man waving at them as he pulls into the driveway and parks. 

“Betty?” he asks and she nods quickly, face brightening. 

“Marco?” she clarifies and he nods, holding out his hand for a shake.

“Welcome!” he says. “And you are?”

“Jughead,” Jug says confidently, and in a momentary flash Betty pictures the clumsy, sixteen-year-old version of Jughead who once fumbled to shake hands with Sweet Pea and Fangs. That version of him is gone now; this version, who has two publishing internships and many college writing seminars under his belt, meets Marco’s eye and shakes confidently.

Marco is as friendly as any management company liaison of a Boston-area rental will ever be. He sweeps them into the apartment quickly and with a friendly joke about Allston Christmas, demonstrating how to unlock the door before handing off the keys. He lets them inspect the apartment, answering all of Betty’s questions that make her blush with every successive one that exits her mouth. (“You’re not being annoying, this is your new home,” Jughead whispers into her ear knowingly when Marco is out of earshot checking on something in the bathroom.) 

Marco shows them where the laundry is and how many quarters to put in, and Betty successfully squeezes Jughead’s hand to keep him from going on a rant about the injustice of coin-op laundry in an apartment for which they’re already paying exorbitant rent each month.

They end up back at the front door quicker than Betty expects, following Marco outside and waiting while he opens the truck door to grab them one of his business cards.

“Got three more of these to do today!” Marco jokes as he waves from the front seat, a not-so-subtle reminder that Marco is almost certainly not making it back to their new place any time soon were there to be any _“problems_ ” later today. 

“What’s their ETA?” Betty asks, noticing Jughead shifting from one foot to the other as he glances down at his phone screen.

FP and Jellybean followed behind them, doing the enormous favor of driving Betty and Jughead’s car from Riverdale so they could ride in the moving truck together. 

(Jellybean gets to stay with FP every summer, and for one major holiday a year, according to the divorce settlement that FP and Gladys battled out, finally inked the summer before their sophomore year of college. FP has, surprisingly, been on the wagon since returning to Riverdale in late August 2011.)

A jovial FP and JB talked a big game earlier about staying “right behind you guys!” but between Jellybean’s “excessively small bladder” and FP’s need for frequent smoke breaks, they’d (predictably) fallen far behind Betty and Jughead within an hour of leaving town.

Jughead sighs. “They’re thirty minutes out, _allegedly_. You?”

Betty shrugs. “I told them to meet us here thirty minutes ago, so it’s anyone’s game,” she replies with a giggle. 

Jughead nods, dropping his phone back in his pocket and smiling at her, the kind of lingering look in his eye that tells Betty he’s about to get sentimental. Not that she’s complaining. Instinctually, they reach for each other, pulling close even in the heat of early afternoon. 

“Hi,” he says softly, gazing down at her like she’s the only person in the world, and Betty thinks for the millionth time that she could be happy just staring into Jughead’s eyes for the rest of her life. “I’m so excited to live with you,” Jughead says. 

“This home is ours,” Betty whispers excitedly. “Just ours.”

Jughead presses his forehead to hers and closes his eyes as they bask in the sentiment, and Betty’s almost certain they’re both thinking of the boxes and boxes of things they packed up from their childhood bedrooms that summer. Technically, as Alice bitterly reminded Betty, there’s a whole pile of pre-high school stuff for Betty to sort through in the attic, but for now, it feels pretty final. All vestiges of who Betty and Jughead have been since their teenage years are now sitting on that moving truck, waiting to be placed in their new home.

“A home away from Riverdale,” Jughead murmurs as he opens his eyes, both of them grinning at each other. “All we ever wanted.”

Betty reaches up and kisses him soundly, letting her hands tangle in his hair as he holds her tighter and deepens the kiss. It’s been a couple years now since Jughead wore his beanie every day, and Betty can’t say she misses it in moments like these.

They reluctantly pull apart from the kiss when Betty’s phone rings loudly from her pocket, the accompanying vibration interrupting their prolonged make-out sesh. 

“That must be them,” she whispers, quickly answering.

“We’re looking for parking!” Valerie practically screeches through the phone. 

“ _I’m_ looking for parking,” Betty hears Melody yell from the driver’s seat. “You’re just stressing me out.”

Valerie lets out a “pfft” and Betty laughs heartily, telling them where Betty and Jughead noticed some open spots on their way over. Betty’s still offering advice when Mel and Val let out a victory cheer at finding an empty parking space and Valerie hangs up abruptly. Betty looks over at Jughead, amused, as she slips her iPhone back in her pocket.

“They’ll be here momentarily,” Betty explains with a giggle.

“Well, then,” Jughead says, jogging to the back of the truck and jumping up to unlock it. “Shall we get started?”

They pull out the long ramp at the bottom of the truck, resting it on the hot concrete. Betty fidgets with the hand truck they rented while they both stare nervously inside at the many furniture pieces they’d taken from Riverdale, alongside boxes and boxes of all their things. 

“We’re hoarders,” Jughead quips.

Betty gulps. 

“ _Yooohoooo_!” It’s the unmistakable teasing lilt of Valerie Brown’s voice, and Betty whips her head around.

“Good thing we have such good friends to help us, Jug!” Betty calls loudly, waving as Valerie and Melody come walking toward them on the sidewalk. 

“This is the coziest street!” Valerie says when they finally reach Betty, everyone embracing.

“I’m so excited about it!” Betty gushes.

Jughead jumps down from the truck and gives both girls hugs. “Thanks so much for helping us.”

“No problem, Not-So-Beanie Boy!” Melody jokes. “Tell me where you need us.”

Jughead, Melody, and Valerie all simultaneously turn to look expectantly at Betty and she bursts out laughing. “What, am I in charge or something?”

Melody pulls a look of disbelief. “When are you _not_ , girl?”

“It’s always better that way,” Jughead reasons, Valerie nodding beside him. 

“Especially when it’s, you know, _your_ stuff,” Melody teases, teasingly bumping Betty’s hip with her own. 

Betty sighs, though she feels a familiar sense of relief at the specter of control. “Okay, fine, so I’m thinking we should get started with some of these smaller boxes in front…”

Jughead grins at Betty as they all jump back up onto the truck and start surveying the first load to go into the apartment. “Let’s get to work.”

* * *

“ _Oof_.” Jughead groans, pausing to wipe sweat off his forehead.

“Sorry,” Melody says guiltily, having just accidentally shoved Jughead’s stomach with the front of the mattress they’re trying to carry off the moving truck together. 

“You okay up there?” Betty calls from where she stands below them on the sidewalk, and Jughead doesn’t even have to look to know that she and Valerie are barely concealing laughter at their current predicament.

Refusing to give in, Jughead looks back at Melody, who is awaiting his instruction. “We can do this,” he says confidently. “Let’s just try backing it in and starting over.”

“Okay…” Melody says nervously, and this time he hears Valerie’s snort of laughter clear as day.

They’re halfway down the ramp when Jughead hears the sound of a car parking nearby. “Stay focused,” Jughead says through gritted teeth, a reminder for himself as much as it is for Melody. 

They continue carefully maneuvering the mattress down the metal ramp as two car doors slam and then FP barks, “Need any help, kids?” and Jughead has never been more grateful to hear his father’s voice in his life. (While they were home this summer, FP pledged to help as much as possible during this move, and clearly he intends on quickly making good on that promise.)

Melody happily leaves the mattress to FP, who bounds over to grab it off her hands. The two of them have the mattress off the truck quickly, FP nodding toward Jughead as if to say, _you lead_ , and Jughead barely registers Jellybean hugging Betty out of the corner of his eye as he determinedly leads his dad into their new building and up the stairs with the mattress they took from Betty’s childhood bedroom.

Inside, Jughead leads them through the kitchen and the living room and then finally into the one bedroom, the two men dropping the mattress with relieved sighs. 

“Remember the last time we did this?” FP offers, not at all what Jughead expected to come out of his mouth.

Jughead nods, bitter memories of a stubborn thirteen-year-old version of himself letting Archie help the dads carry the larger items out of their first home on Elm Street. “Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I was…” He scratches the back of his head as he finally meets his dad’s eyes. “...a much different person back then.”

“You were a kid,” FP counters. “And now you’re a better man than I’ll ever be.”

Jughead shifts awkwardly on his feet, relieved when he hears Jellybean call from the front door, “Jug?”

FP and Jug run to meet her, helping grab the overstuffed tote bags she’s carrying in from the car. “Thanks,” Jellybean says. She whistles as they drop the items in the living room, whirling to take a good look around. “This place is _nice_ , Jug.”

Jughead grins, unsure how to respond. He agrees, of course; it’s a perfect first apartment. The kind of home he never dared to dream about when he was a teenager.

The three Joneses are interrupted by the sound of the front door banging open again, Betty entering with two boxes balanced in her arms. “Can one of you…” Betty huffs, dropping the boxes to the kitchen floor and catching her breath. “...grab the doorstop off the truck?”

“Got it!” Jellybean chirps, skipping back out of the apartment and past Valerie and Melody, both slowly making their way up the lawn with boxes. 

“What are you guys doing standing around?” Betty teases FP and Jughead.

“We were just coming to see where you wanted us,” Jughead insists and FP laughs. 

“Come on, Jug,” FP says. “Let’s do the only thing we’re good for and lift some heavy things.”

Jughead shakes his head, pulling a face at Betty as she sticks her tongue out at him. “ _Love you_ ,” he mouths to Betty before running to catch up with his dad.

Their crew of helpers make things go quicker than Jughead expected, FP and Jughead moving a lot of the furniture with occasional assists from Melody and Betty. Meanwhile, Betty, Valerie, Melody, and Jellybean largely divide up the miscellaneous boxes and tote bags and smaller items, making numerous trips up and down the stairs.

Inside, Betty directs their carefully-labeled cardboard boxes into the appropriate rooms. This is where Jughead and FP find her when they finish hauling the final item—an absurdly heavy bookshelf—off the truck. 

“Hey,” Betty says warmly, turning to smile up at him when she feels Jughead’s hands on her shoulders. 

“We emptied the truck!” Jughead announces triumphantly, and Betty’s mouth drops open.

“Wow,” she says. “That feels fast.”

Jughead shrugs, squeezing her shoulder affectionately. “Take the win, Betty.”

FP clears his throat. “Not to interrupt, but...can I offer to bring your U-Haul back for you? I figure I won’t be much help around here.” He looks nervous, as he often does in the years he’s been trying to win back Jughead’s trust and respect. 

Betty appears appropriately flustered. “Are...are you sure, Mr. Jones? Should one of us follow you in our car to drive you back? The U-Haul drop spot is a good thirty-minute walk from here.” Jughead’s stomach sinks at the idea of not being here with Betty right now.

FP shrugs, waving them off before anyone can volunteer. “No, no, you all stay here and be helpful. I’ll Uber back.”

Jughead laughs. “You _Uber_ , Dad?”

FP sticks his tongue out in an embarrassed Jellybean’s direction. “Oh, yes. I’m _hip_. Right, JB?”

Jellybean shakes her head. “Oh my God,” she stage-whispers mournfully.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Jones,” Betty says, grabbing the U-Haul keys off the kitchen counter and handing them over. “Hopefully the pizza will be here by the time you get back.”

“We ordered pizza?” Jughead asks excitedly and Betty shoots him a look.

“ _No_ , but you’re about to,” she says sweetly and Jughead laughs, heading into the other room to take orders from Melody and Valerie as Betty gives FP directions and sends him on his way in their now-empty moving truck.

Jughead returns to the kitchen to find Betty and Jellybean unpacking cleaning supplies from one of Betty’s many reusable tote bags. “If you guys are good with three pies—one veggie, one plain, one pepperoni—then I’m gonna put this order in.”

“Uh, aren’t you forgetting something?” Betty says.

“Garlic knots,” Jellybean says knowingly, and Betty offers her a high-five.

Jughead laughs, pacing back into the living room to put in the order. “You two are trouble,” he jokes, though both Betty and Jellybean are very aware of how soft Jughead _actually_ is for how well Betty and Jellybean get along—ever since the first time they all spent Thanksgiving together their sophomore year of college. 

Jughead returns to the kitchen. “Pizza should be here in 45 minutes,” he says. “Where do you want me?” 

Betty grins, biting her lip and taking a moment to respond, and Jughead knows she’s tamping down a flirtatious comment for Jellybean’s benefit. “Help us make this kitchen clean enough to eat pizza in?” she says instead, and Jughead nods, grinning and accepting the Swiffer Betty offers him.

* * *

Like clockwork, FP returns to their apartment only five minutes after the pizza arrives, and so Betty feels much less guilty about the enormous favor he’s done them when she can greet him with a plate of food and a full bottle of water. 

The group sits in the kitchen, everyone cross-legged in a circle chewing gratefully from paper plates. Betty and her friends ask JB about high school and her garage band, Valerie and Melody teasing her to join the field hockey team in Toledo. Betty meets Jughead’s eye when FP starts bragging about Jellybean’s GPA, exchanging a knowing look of sadness and frustration before both turning back to their pizza before anyone else catches it.

A FaceTime call from Toni interrupts Betty’s third slice of pizza, her excited voice insisting on a virtual tour of their new apartment that Betty can’t help but give her, even while carrying her greasy paper plate as she walks through the rooms. 

Betty pauses in the bedroom, laughing at Toni’s teasing when her friend spots the mattress and various pieces of Betty’s old bed frame littering the floor alongside piles of boxes. 

“So, Coop,” Toni says quietly. “How does it feel?”

Betty shrugs. “How does what feel?”

“Moving in with the love of your life?” It’s the casual way Toni says it, or maybe the way that what she says doesn’t make Betty flinch. Whatever it is, Toni manages to cut through the seemingly endless to-do list playing in Betty’s mind throughout this busy day, and get right to the heart of it. (As Toni always has.)

“It feels…” Betty looks out one of the windows, smiling at the bed of sunflowers growing in the neighbor’s yard. “... _Right_.”

When Betty returns to the kitchen, Jughead and Jellybean are stacking pizza boxes and tying up a garbage bag while Valerie and Melody gather up their purses. 

“Toni says ‘hi’ and that she can’t wait to sleep on our couch,” Betty reports.

Everyone laughs while Melody adds, “Oh, she better! We need her to come visit us this semester.”

Valerie and Melody exchange hugs with an extremely-grateful Betty and Jughead, teasing them about the “banger of a housewarming party” they expect to be invited to. As Betty lets them out the front door, she realizes that the sun is already starting its descent in the sky. 

“Love you, Betty!” her friends call, and she waves until she can’t see their retreating figures anymore, and when she shuts the door behind them it’s with a very conscious thought: _this is_ my _apartment._ Our _apartment._

* * *

After Melody and Valerie leave, Jellybean starts cleaning the living room with Betty, which leads to Betty suggesting different places FP and Jughead can move the furniture throughout the room. By the time Betty is satisfied, it feels to Jughead that they’d just rearranged everything in an equally chaotic, albeit different order, but he doesn’t say that. Betty looks as exhausted as he feels, and he’s grateful when Betty is the one who initiates the “good-night” with FP and Jellybean.

He hugs Jellybean extra tight, looks his dad straight in the eye as he genuinely thanks them for their help for the fifteenth time, an unexpected gesture that has FP’s eyes softening. They make plans to meet for breakfast in the morning, and then around 7 PM, FP and Jellybean finally leave for their hotel. 

Jughead sighs involuntarily as he closes the door behind them, his forehead resting against the doorjamb. “Finally alone,” he murmurs.

It doesn’t escape Jughead that this apartment he now shares with Betty will be the first so-called “home” where he’ll be able to truly _breathe_ , where he knows he will always feel safe. Wanting to relish in this new feeling, he turns around and frowns a bit when he finds Betty not right behind him, but already back in the living room sorting and unpacking boxes.

Jughead sighs again, this time with a bit of pain for Betty clenched tight in his chest. He knows she won’t be able to rest until a certain amount of their “essential items” are unpacked; she said as much on the drive earlier. Earlier...feels like an eternity ago, and it’s only evening, the sun still setting as Jughead washes his hands in the kitchen sink and takes his time scrubbing, staring out the window and trying to gain the energy to be there for Betty how she needs him to be.

Jughead grabs himself a water bottle from the fridge, slightly surprised to see their 24-pack is already reduced down to a handful, and returns to the living room to find Betty sitting cross-legged on the floor, inspecting the contents of her most-recently-opened cardboard box. 

He presses a kiss on the top of Betty’s head, sitting on the floor opposite her in a tiny act of solidarity. She smiles and closes her eyes into his touch.

“How can I help?” he asks, gesturing at the opened box of books she’s sorting through.

Betty sighs, the kind of deep breath that tells him she’s finally letting go of all the worries she was too anxious to bring up in front of everyone else. 

“That box behind you,” she says, pointing as Jughead turns to find three boxes stacked haphazardly, the top one messily labeled “open first.”

Jughead chuckles, grabbing the box and taking the boxcutter Betty hands him as she continues rummaging through her own box. A fond memory of Betty handing Jughead the boxcutter to open their first-ever print issue of the _Blue and Gold_ enters Jughead’s mind as he cuts through the layer of packing tape with a satisfying hiss.

Betty sighs again before saying, “You know how I wanted to distribute all my books throughout the boxes so we wouldn’t have a bunch of heavy boxes of books that I wouldn’t even be able to carry?”

Jughead nods, looking up as he jams open the cardboard flaps to find Betty frowning into her own box—thoughtfully, solemnly, as if coming to peace with something.

“I remember,” Jughead says. 

“I did a really bad job keeping these boxes from becoming miscellaneous nonsense,” she says, finally looking up at Jughead with such a cutely desperate face that Jughead has to openly bite down his desire to laugh giddily at her very Betty-like predicament.

“Are you saying that most of our stuff is miscellaneous nonsense?” Jughead asks, his voice and face both mock-offended, and it’s enough to have Betty bursting out laughing, his intended goal. 

Betty scooches across the floor closer to him, giving him a soft, slow kiss, both leaning over the “open first” box. 

Afterwards, she grins at him and together they start rummaging through the box—they pull out more of Betty’s coffee table books, a couple unopened patchouli candles (“birthday gifts from Polly,” Betty explains with a bitter laugh), and an ashtray they bought in the East Village while visiting Veronica.

“All living room stuff,” she mutters absently, gathering the items in a pile next to the couch. 

“What are we looking for?” Jughead asks as he watches Betty unearth the final items—a couple floral tea towels—from the box with another deep sigh. 

She shrugs. “I don’t know why I labeled this one ‘open first.’ I think I was losing my mind by the end of our packing.”

Jughead laughs, reaching for her shoulder and immediately finding her muscles as tense as he expected. He starts to massage her neck and upper back, finding a knot immediately and whispering “shhh” in Betty’s ear when she starts to protest. “I need to... _unpack…_.” Betty sighs, her voice trailing off. 

“You need to relax,” Jughead counters, concentrating on kneading her shoulders and smiling in silent victory when Betty’s breathing slows down, a peaceful quiet settling over their new living room as they sit together on the floor. 

When he finishes, she collapses into his arms for a moment, and he buries his own face into her hair, sweet-smelling even when dampened by moving sweat. “I’m gonna roll us a couple joints, okay?” Jughead whispers and he feels her nod underneath him. 

Jughead gets Betty to sit on the couch with him, a pile of (supposed) “open first” boxes sitting on the floor in front of them, which serves as a good compromise as Jughead tucks and rolls on the overturned box they’re currently using as a coffee table. 

“What’s your vision for this room?” Jughead asks, trying to keep Betty’s mind moving as he licks the rolling paper.

Betty smiles, looking around the room. “We need more lamps,” she says. “But we can go thrift store hunting for that.” 

Jughead nods. “But nothing too fragile, right?”

“Right,” Betty says. “Nothing our future cat baby will surely destroy.”

Jughead smiles, handing Betty a freshly-rolled joint and starting on the second. “I can’t wait,” he says, happy to see Betty toying with a lighter, a cute little grin on her face. They’ve been planning on adopting a cat all summer; Betty’s always wanted one, but Hal was allergic and Alice “too evil for pets anyway,” as Betty and Charles once quipped.

“I want this place to feel like a home,” Betty says suddenly and Jughead looks up from his second roll. 

“It already feels like one,” Jughead promises, gingerly taking the lighter from Betty’s hand and helping her spark the first joint. “Because it’s ours.”

* * *

“It’s like Christmas morning over here,” Jughead quips around a mouthful of smoke, and Betty “pffts” right back at him.

After a few hits Betty returned to opening the pile of boxes at her feet, and now she is finally opening the last one—yes, much like unwrapping gifts from Santa one by one. Only so far she hasn’t gotten anything she asked for.

Still, Betty can’t help the involuntary smile that crosses her face when she finds, hidden alongside books and a stockpile of sanitary pads, the little shoebox in which she stores all her printed photos. At the top of the pile sits the photo Toni snapped of Betty and Jughead their sophomore year, eyes closed as they embraced in the _Blue and Gold_ office on the day their first issue arrived. 

She smiles, touching it and taking in their youthful, excited faces with a greediness. Some days she misses it, but most days she doesn’t. Days like today, when the monumental challenge of moving all your items across state lines ends with the absolute gift of falling asleep beside your partner every single night.

She sighs, tamping down the temptation to continue rummaging through the shoebox. There are many photos of Betty and Jughead taken by Toni in there. She can’t wait to pull them out, sort through them, frame and pin them up all around her, a constant reminder of the beautiful life she and Jughead have built together, to keep her going in the harder moments. 

But for now, she closes it again, before standing up with hands on her hips as she tries to determine her next move. 

Jughead sits on the couch, scrolling through Twitter, smoking, and begging Betty to join him from time to time. “We can unpack more tomorrow,” he insists, a desperation leaking out of his voice that Betty finds adorable enough that she drops her eyes from the search and toward him instead.

“I’m _looking_ for something,” Betty reminds him. “Just _one_ more thing in particular, and then I’m done for the night. We need it to christen the new place.”

“Besides the weed?”

Betty nods, determined, though she accepts a couple more long drags off the joint before continuing her search. The final box from the living room that she thought might contain what she was looking for turned up empty, and Betty finds herself pausing to wrack her brain for where else her past self could have put it.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, waving off Jughead’s protests as she hurries into their bedroom, switching on the light and surveying the chaotic mess of boxes and tote bags and duffles. 

_Duffle_. Suddenly, she remembers standing at the top of the stairs in her house on Elm Street that summer, trying to decide if she should keep her old sports duffle, rarely used since she hung up her field hockey cleats four years earlier. She can hear the scratch of her Sharpie against the cardboard box before she taped it up, and remembers what her label looked like. 

Betty runs across the room, rummaging through the boxes in search of it. A pool of warmth spreads through her belly when she finally finds it, underneath two bags of her clothes. She practically rips it open, adrenaline pumping through her body as she finally spots her blue-and-gold duffle bag. She’s just about to unzip the familiar bag when—

“Betty?” Jughead stands at the door, his eyes low and the lit joint in his fingers. “Did you...did you find what you were looking for?”

Betty grins. “I did,” she says, refusing to turn around. “Go back out into the living room, okay? I’ll be there in a minute, I promise.”

“Sounds good, Betty,” he says, understanding as always, and then she hears his footsteps retreating and she hastily stands up. 

Not even moving to close the door—a thrilling feeling, that she doesn’t have to—Betty slowly peels off the shorts and underwear she’s been wearing all day, letting the garments drop lazily to the floor. She retrieves the skirt from the bottom of the duffle bag with an excited tingle.

Slowly, Betty pulls the pleated skirt on, a little snugger around her hips than it used to fit, smoothing over the wrinkled pleats before walking toward the full-length mirror that’s haphazardly propped against one of the walls. She bites her lip at her reflection; all these years later, this skirt still makes her feel powerful. 

(The fact that she had technically _stolen_ the skirt adds to the illusion too. Though she had to surrender the jersey, of course, so as not to raise suspicions.)

Satisfied, Betty turns around and walks confidently into the living room, where Jughead still holds the dwindling joint between his long fingers. She licks her lips, taking the joint from Jughead quickly and relishing in the mesmerized look on his face when he realizes what she’d been so desperate to find.

“I stand corrected,” he whispers, watching her hold smoke in and let out a generous hit toward their cracked window. “We _needed_ this to christen the place.”

Betty grins, handing him the joint and nestling herself between his legs on the couch. “Told ya.”

Jughead takes a long hit, and Betty watches the tip of the joint burn, thinking about how Jughead wouldn’t start smoking until they got to Boston, but how once he did, it fit so seamlessly into his life. 

(Like, even though Betty first smoked back in junior year of high school, _Jughead_ was the one who learned how to roll, with the help of his roommate his freshman year at Lesley. She came to visit him one November weekend to find him proudly presenting her a deftly-rolled joint. 

“ _Wow._ You were always good with your fingers,” she teased before he pulled her into a deep kiss, shoving a sock on the handle as he locked the door behind her.)

“What are you thinking about?” Jughead asks, giving her a last drag on the joint and letting his arms come around Betty, settling her more steadily in his lap. 

“You,” she replies, handing him back the joint and gripping him by his shoulders to keep from being knocked off his lap as he leans forward to ash the joint in their ashtray. He returns his gaze to Betty, and his eyes are burning in exactly the way she hoped they’d be.

“I love you,” Jughead says, in that husky, deep voice that will always be Betty’s weakness.

“I love you so much, Jug,” Betty replies, pulling him into a passionate kiss and leaning her head back when he immediately grabs for her tits underneath her tank top, rolling her nipples between his fingers.

“Why do you still have this on?” he whispers into her ear as he presses kisses along her neck, tugging at the hem of her tank top.

“Good point,” Betty whispers, letting Jughead continue kissing down her body as she pulls the tank top off and throws it to the ground to join the piles of boxes and half-unpacked things covering their living room floor. 

“I don’t have any underwear on,” she whispers in his ear as he pulls off her bra, both their breathing already turning heavy and labored. She can feel him harden underneath her, and she grinds down on him to punctuate her point.

Jughead groans into her ear, reaching for her face so they can trade sloppy, passionate kisses as she ruts in his lap. “This reminds me of…”

“The night of our last game?” Betty suggests, taking her own time pressing kisses to the side of Jughead’s neck. She grins when he throws his head back a bit. It always satisfies Betty, after all this time, to see Jughead gaining pleasure from anything she does.

“Yes,” Jughead finally replies in a hurried whisper. “I want to finger you like that night, under the bleachers for anyone to see, in this skirt…” He rubs the material between his fingers for emphasis.

Betty grins, smashing their faces together again. “I was hoping you’d say that,” she whispers between kisses.

As they make out, Jughead’s hand creeps up her thigh, Betty’s breath hitching in delicious anticipation. He circles her clit, teasing little touches that have Betty crying out desperately, “ _Jug_.”

“Not a time for teasing?” Jughead guesses in a voice that Betty often classifies as his “being a little shit voice.” Jughead seems to know what she’s thinking, since he laughs as she says, “ _not_ the time” through gritted teeth.

He rubs her clit, with purpose now, as he simultaneously inserts one of his long fingers, and Betty cries out, swallowing the words on the tip of her tongue.

“Yeah, baby,” Jughead whispers into her ear, his other hand grabbing her ass underneath the pleated skirt as she rides his fingers, letting out the kind of passionate sounds that have long stopped embarrassing her. 

“Don’t...stop!” she says with a scream, the words seeming to spur Jughead on. His finger curls inside her, knowingly tickling her G-spot, and she’s coming hard, holding tightly to Jughead’s body as she rides out the waves of pleasure in his lap. 

“ _Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit_ ,” she whispers, grateful for Jughead’s slow ministrations at her clit, the way he gingerly removes his fingers, and kisses the side of her neck. 

Over the years, their sex has only gotten better and better, but something about this...her old field hockey skirt, mixed with their new, first “adult” apartment, maybe...that had her orgasming harder than she had in a long time. The release of stress, perhaps, of finally being settled, alone, in this new place they get to call home. 

“Hey, Betty,” Jughead whispers, still cradling her neck as she comes down. 

“Yeah?” she whispers faintly.

“Did condoms happen to be on your list of ‘essential items?’”

Betty laughs, one of those long and giddy laughs that takes over her entire body, and he starts laughing too, Betty hugging Jughead’s warm body to her in pure joy.

“Yes,” she finally answers. “ _Yes_! They’re...here, I’ll get them.”

When Betty returns from the corner of the living room where she’d unearthed their condoms earlier that evening, Jughead has peeled all his clothes off. 

Betty reaches for him immediately, the condoms dropping from her hands as they kiss insistently. She gets him back on the couch, realizing as she drops to her knees to take Jughead in her mouth—his hand in her hair, head thrown back with his eyes pinched closed—that she’s still wearing the skirt.

He stops her with a gentle hand soon after this realization with a soft, brief, “Wanna come inside you, Betts.”

Betty grins, standing up and moving to pull the skirt off as he picks up the fallen condom box from the ground. “ _No_!” he says, and she smiles slyly at him, a questioning look in her eye.

“Keep it on,” Jughead insists, his voice lowering to a near-growl.

Betty bites her lip, already getting wet again at the dominant tone to his voice. “Okay,” she says. “Then I guess I’ll have to get on top.”

She smiles at the mischievous, giddy look on Jughead’s face at those words, suspecting this was the plan all along. 

“Love you, Juggie,” she whispers as she climbs into his lap once again, both of them groaning when she sinks down onto his cock. 

Jughead grabs her ass in his hands, almost commanding in a way that turns her on, as he helps guide the thrust of his dick up into her pussy. The pleats of the skirt bounce along with her, and she can’t help the moan that escapes her mouth when Jughead makes a point to finger the edges of the skirt as he massages her ass. 

“You’re so hot, riding me in this skirt,” he says into her ear before pulling her into another passionate kiss, correctly reading her need for praise.

Betty groans, picking up the pace as Jughead buries his face into her tits, making Betty moan as his tender tongue meets her nipples. She clenches around him and he cries out a desperate, low, “ _Betty_ ” and she knows that he’s coming, kissing his cheeks as she slowly rides him through it. 

“Fuck,” Jughead whispers, their foreheads touching as they kiss long and slow before Betty finally climbs off him. 

“We do love to defile a good couch, huh, Betts?” Jughead says, laughing heartily. Betty laughs too, accepting Jughead’s light kiss on her bare shoulder as he passes her to dispose of the condom. 

“I’m taking the skirt off now,” she announces, letting it drop to her feet before running to the bathroom to pee.

When she returns to the living room, Jughead is just sparking their second joint, wearing only his boxers on the couch. He grins at her, completely naked, and pats the space beside him. 

She runs back to the bedroom to find her underwear on the ground and pulls them back on, quipping as Jughead hands her the joint, “Now we match.”

“I love you so much,” Jughead whispers, throwing his arm around her. 

Mostly naked and unbothered, they sit in silence for a couple minutes, passing the joint back and forth. Their window is still cracked, but their Somerville neighborhood is pretty quiet, just a couple sounds of crickets and the occasional car passing on the main street. In her stoned and sated post-sex bliss, Betty has never felt so calm. 

“We should go to bed soon,” Jughead murmurs, planting a little kiss on the back of her neck as Betty takes greedy hits. 

“We should,” Betty agrees, tapping ash off the end of the joint and passing it to him. “Because I can’t wait to wake up beside you tomorrow morning.”

“And every day after,” Jughead promises.

When they do finally get themselves to their feet—Jughead pulling Betty by the hand toward the mattress on their bedroom floor that will just have to do for their first night—Betty’s eyes catch on the dimly-lit, blue-and-gold pleats of her field hockey skirt, splayed on the hardwood floor of their living room, like evidence of their love marking the new space. 

Something about that image, accompanied by the feel of Jughead’s hand in hers, will be burned into Betty’s memory forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y’all enjoyed this final homage to THE FIELD HOCKEY SKIRT. I had way too much fun subverting the typical River Vixen skirt and having it be a ~field hockey skirt~ instead, and so i always planned to have the last scene of this fic generally be “smut involving field hockey skirt to christen their first home together.” And i hope you enjoyed where it ended up!
> 
> Also, random note re: the beginning of this chapter - If you went to college in Boston, you listened to “Boston” by Augustana. I just don’t believe you if you try to say you didn’t. LOL.
> 
> Subscribe to the series if you wanna get an AO3 email when i post the next installment! drink water and wear a mask and donate to mutual aid funds, my loves! 
> 
> Thanks for coming on this journey with me!!!!
> 
> Love,
> 
> Maria

**Author's Note:**

> VARIOUS THOUGHTS. (Remember, y’all, i wrote almost this entire fic before posting which is not my usual so i talked to myself A LOT and now you get to hear it too!)
> 
> 1\. I always hated that the writers immediately made Toni hate Betty (despite Toni then later falling in love with a girl arguably _more_ “Northside” than Betty). And they’ve kind of continued that weird animosity between them throughout the show. It’s so trash. Like if Toni is “the female Jughead,” why wouldn’t she get along with Betty? Is it because y’all hate women? PROBABLY.
> 
> ANYWAY, I think the two could be really good friends, so I will continue to rectify that particular friendship in fic. (Also, like, come ON. Toni being good at field hockey tracks for me. She reminds me of some of the _actually_ _good_ field hockey players I played with in the best ways.)
> 
> 2\. Even though this AU includes an actually-genuinely-good Penny Peabody, i picked Penny for the field hockey coach because her look reminds me of one of my coaches and uh...I had some shall we say negative experiences with some coaches so just...the combo WORKS, okay i promise. The super-nice coaching style in this fic is DEFINITELY fiction tho.)
> 
> 3\. Is there anything more Early 2000s Teenager than one sister into radio hits and one sister into pretentious indie-rock, sitting in the car hating each other’s music? I think not. My sister and I totally used to fight over whose CD we got to play in the car on the reg. (Even if our tastes are/were _much_ closer than Polly/Betty.)
> 
> 4\. Finally, there’s a lot of new territory in this fic for me and I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little scared about whether I managed to pull it off! Usually, I go hard at trying to keep the strong, core friendships important to the story. I’ve kinda flipped that on its head here. Through the “friends drifting apart” aspect of this story I’m exploring the quiet and unintentional ways teenagers hurt each other, often without even realizing they’re doing it. That felt like a really big part of high school for me, everyone changing all the time in different directions. So, that being said, I hope it’s coming across correctly, because in no way am I trying to demonize Archie, Veronica, Cheryl, and Kevin. They’re just kids caught up in a different part of the high school experience than Betty and Jughead, kids who don’t quite know what they’re doing. What else is being a teenager but not knowing what the fuck is going on, am I right?
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, would absolutely LOVE to hear if this idea is working for anyone else or if this is just self-indulgent fluff, so drop a comment if you are so inclined!
> 
> This fic is gonna post on Fridays but I got impatient and posted this first chapter a day early ;) See y’all next week for chapter 2! 
> 
> All the love,
> 
> Maria


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